


Two Little Blackbirds

by TakeItEezy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Wings, Angels, Angst, Apocalypse, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), BAMF Anathema Device, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Newton Pulsifer, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Dark, Death, Demons, Dreams, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hell, Hellhounds, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Intense, I’ll think of more later., M/M, No Smut, Occult, Prophecy, Psychological Torture, Self-Hatred, Shapeshifting, Torture, Violence, War! What is it good for?, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeItEezy/pseuds/TakeItEezy
Summary: When Beelzebub called on Crowley, he knew he was in trouble. An unlikely friendship made his punishment both the best and the worst one he’d ever gotten.(Formerly “The Snake and the Cat”)(Abandoned story)
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

Hell is not a nice vacation spot. It doesn’t have nice restaurants, its got no wildlife, it’s very ugly, and the people (and demons) are rather terrible. There are beaches, but where there should be ocean, there is lava. The manager, otherwise known as Satan, has a lot of problems with the inhabitants, so he is rather grumpy and ill tempered. Hell is, in fact, the opposite of a vacation spot.  
This is what the demon Crowley was thinking when he was forcibly brought back down from Earth. Once he got to his boss’s office, he was immediately shoved through the door even before it was open, causing the wood to splinter and burst out in all different directions.  
There sat Beelzebub at their desk and drinking some awful drink. They were working on some paperwork with a quill and inkwell instead of pen and paper.  
“That smells like horse shit.” Crowley pointed out the drink as he stood in front of the desk.  
“It izzz horse shit.” They droned.  
“Ah.” Crowley nodded, simply accepting it without further questions.  
With a flick of their wrist, the door was back together, the shards of wood flying back into place. One hit Crowley in the cheek, drawing blood, but he didn’t even bat an eye.  
“We heard about your last visit with the priest.” Beelzebub said, not looking up.  
“How the-“  
“He was one of ourz.” They explained, glancing up at him. “It waz not clever of you to change my orderz on your own. Somehow, you managed to push him to the other side. Now, he might be going to Heaven.”  
“What?!” Crowley was gobsmacked. He had tempted the priest towards lust, but somehow the man must have resisted the urges to harm others. Crowley had miscalculated his mental fortitude.  
“Due to this... ‘good deed’,” Crowley glared down at his feet as Beelzebub insulted him, “you will be the handler. You will have to deal with the tank on your own.”  
“Oh fuck, seriously?”  
“You’ll have to deal with that disgusting thing. It’ll be perfect for you.” They mocked. The tank is how the demons referred to a contraption that held their most valuable captive, a real angel. Some demons would throw things like rotten food or even rocks and pieces of glass at it, but most demons paid no heed to it. He always thought that having an angel in Hell really was unnecessary, but it disheartened the humans to know that the demons could keep it in chains, so they kept it. Another punishment, another clean-up required, although this time Crowley had no idea what he was in for.  
Hastur suddenly appeared beside him and grabbed his arm. He then practically threw him out of the office in the opposite direction that he had come in. No sneaking back to the surface, then.  
“Move.” He grunted.  
“Calm down, frog-face, I’m going.” Crowley rolled his eyes, holding his arm.  
That fucking hurt.  
Another shove.  
“Calm the fuck down and show me the way, asshole, I can walk!” Snarled Crowley as he spun around.  
“Nah.” Hastur smiled a disgusting smile, the boils on his face wrinkling as it widened. “This is so much more fun.”  
After several more shoves, Crowley found himself in front of a huge glass container. It was about the size of a ballroom, and the glass was the only part of it that genuinely looked well cleaned. The ground was a mix of browns and some gold, blood and dirt mixing together to form a strange sparkling lighter brown color in certain places.  
So, that was the tank.  
Inside sat the angel. It seemed small, dwarfed by the cell. Its hair looked gray, but it must have been the dirt or lighting because when it lifted its head, parts of it glinted white. It was robed in a torn white cloth which was covered in what looked like bite marks from a huge animal. Its skin was tinged pink as if from heat or fever.  
“In there.” Hastur pointed to a small door which lead into the chamber and threw Crowley to the ground. When he looked back to the duke of Hell, he held out a small key that was etched with demonic symbols. It was obviously the key to open the door.  
“Thanks.” He muttered and looked up to see the shock and frustration on Hastur’s face. It was delightful to see him so pained, but it was even better when he disappeared. At least Crowley wouldn’t have to see him lurking and grinning at the punishment.  
As soon as Crowley stepped into the tank, he felt the intense change in temperature. The silence and heat hit him like a ton of bricks. He instantly started sweating and was hyper aware of the sound that his shoes made on the dirt.  
“Stupid corporeal forms.” He muttered to himself, his eyes widening as his voice reverberated around the entire cell. The angel slowly turned its head, blinking in surprise and exhaustion.  
“Hello.” It said as soon as it saw him. He didn’t respond.  
“You’re not the... normal demon.” It slowly got up onto its feet and took a shaky step forward towards him. When he took a step back, the angel chuckled.  
“I can’t do anything to hurt you, my dear.” It showed Crowley a golden band etched with most of the same demonic symbols that were on the key. There were a few more that Crowley didn’t recognized, but they looked rather like what he remembered angelic script looked like. He may not have been able to read it anymore, but it was still recognizable. For a moment, he pondered whether other demons were able to recognize the letters and symbols.  
“I’m completely harmless.” The angel smiled, and Crowley began to realize how handsome it was.  
“Cool.” Crowley nodded. Suddenly, the door was flung open, and a small bucket of water and a cloth were slid inside before it slammed closed again. He waltzed over to the bucket and cloth, picking them up and bringing them to the angel. “I think this is for you.” He held them out for the angel, who grabbed the water hungrily. It looked inside of the bucket and sighed.  
“Dirty again.” It moaned. “I can’t drink dirty water.” It sighed. “No matter! I don’t mind.”  
“Is that... really all they give you?” Crowley questioned as it started washing itself off with the cloth.  
“I’m afraid so.” It said. Once it was done, it handed over the bucket and cloth. Crowley refused the cloth and took the bucket.  
“At least it’s kinder than the treatment the humans get in some of the worse places.” He shrugged and snapped his fingers, making the bucket appear over Hastur’s head and pour out its contents on him.  
“Ah, yes. Of course.” It smiled again. “Thank you.”  
“Shut up.” Crowley spat, unable to look it in the eye.  
Why did the captive have to look like THAT?  
When he spun around to leave, he heard its voice.  
“By the way, my name is Aziraphale.”  
Crowley slammed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all!  
> I’m really excited to be posting this new story! I have so many ideas with what could happen, and I’m so excited to share this with you all.  
> As always, thanks to my amazing, beautiful beta, ShesAKillerQueen98!!  
> Thank you all for reading! I love you!  
> Kudos if you like it, and comment if you want to.  
> I’ll be responding to all comments that I can!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I decided that despite the fact I have carpal tunnel, I’m still going to try to write. I couldn’t go on the mini hiatus that I planned because I just have so many ideas for this!!

Crowley was woken up by a kick to his stomach.   
“Up you go.” Hastur said as Crowley curled up, coughing, before rolling onto his hands and knees.  
“Was that necessary?” Crowley groaned as he got up, grabbing his sunglasses and wiping them off before shoving them back on to his nose.   
“Nope.” Hastur grinned his disgusting smile. “But it’s fun.”   
With a sigh, Crowley headed off in the direction of the tank, Hastur in tow. Obviously, they expected him to try to escape, and they were right to expect it. Every time he saw the entrance, his heart raced and his mind wandered to what would happen on the outside. Then, a scream of agony would sound out in the distance, or a shove from Hastur would force him back to reality. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to completely fuck up that asshole’s day...  
The first thing that surprised Crowley was the gigantic crowd of demons surrounding the tank. The second thing was the fact that there were 2 giant hellhounds inside that looked to be fighting some kind of big, white cat in the tank. The third was the fact that he didn’t see the angel anywhere.   
“You missed this weeks show, Crowley.” Ligur suddenly appeared beside him, his eyes lit up in glee. “What a shame. Maybe you should stay awake next time. It’s rather exciting.”  
A demon went into the tank, grabbed the hellhounds, then quickly left the cage, leaving the white snow leopard in the middle of the floor, panting and bleeding.  
Wait.   
It was bleeding gold.   
“Is that the angel?” Crowley stared, wide-eyed. The question soon answered itself as the cat slowly morphed into a human-like figure.   
“Yes, that’s the angel. The hellhounds think that it’s loads of fun, so we allow them at it for a while before putting them back.” Hastur watched as Aziraphale limped off to one of the corners in the cage. “The show’s also a great morale booster. Really gets the blood pumping.”  
Crowley was awestruck. He had never seen any other beings like him, ones that could transform into different animals. Finally, there was one right in front of him. He was being lead towards possibly the only being who could really understand that part of him. He already thought the angel looked... good, and now to find out he was also a shapeshifter?   
“Clean up the mess.” Hastur said before leaving Crowley in front of the door.   
His heart was practically pounding out of his chest as he walked into the gigantic, unbearably hot tank.  
“You’re a shapeshifter.” Crowley said as he walked over to the angel. Aziraphale gave a rough, humorless laugh.   
“Yes, indeed.” His voice was low and quiet. The angel searched his face, and it took all of Crowley’s willpower not to blush. “Now that I can see you clearly, you look so familiar.”   
“Maybe I’ve just got one of those faces.” Crowley shrugged, but the sensation was mutual. He was sure he had seen the angel somewhere before, but he figured that he might have passed the tank sometime in the past and looked inside. A mop and a bucket were pushed through the door, and he took hold of the handle, starting to scrub the floors.   
“Yes. I suppose it would be highly improbable for me to recognize you. I was only on the surface for a few days before I was taken.”  
“When was that?” Crowley decided that a little bit of harmless chatting was the best course of action. This punishment was awful and boring, so he would do ANYTHING to pass the time. Including chat with a hereditary enemy.   
“The very beginning.” Aziraphale said, wistfully.   
“I was there too.” Crowley said offhandedly. “Maybe we did meet.”  
“Oh!” Aziraphale suddenly sounded a lot more excited. “What did you do up there?”  
“Take a guess.” Crowley spun around and slid his glasses down his nose, staring at the angel with his yellow, slitted eyes.   
“You-you-you were the serpent!” Aziraphale tried to get up, but he hissed in pain as one of the gashes in his side started to bleed worse than before. Crowley could now see the extent of the damage.   
There were bleeding bite marks all over his body. One of them that looked particularly bad was in his shoulder, and it was almost deep enough to see the bone. The gashes in his side looked as though the hellhounds had attempted to rip a chunk of flesh out of him, but failed. There were shallower cuts on his arms and legs, but they were still bleeding quite a lot, dripping gold onto the ground.   
“We did talk!” The angel smiled brightly. “I was the angel of the eastern gate!”  
Crowley thought for a moment, running back through his memories, then finally landing back in eden.   
“Oh, yeah...”   
“The first thing you said to me was-“  
“‘That went down like a lead balloon.’” Crowley attempted to hide a smile as Aziraphale looked elated.   
“You remembered!”   
Crowley remained quiet. Of course he remembered, it was the first time he spoke to someone and actually got a civil and kind response back. He had fallen for him the moment the angel had said he had given away his sword. A stupid, generous, and probably the only really GOOD angel. How could he have forgotten his face?   
“How’d the flaming sword fiasco turn out for you, angel?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale looked down in embarrassment and fidgeted with his fingers.   
“Well, I think that’s why heaven left me down here.” He said.   
“Bunch of bastards, the lot of them, if you ask me.” Crowley muttered loudly enough for the angel to hear, half hoping to get a smile, but all he got was a look of surprise.   
“It wasn’t their fault I gave away the sword-“  
“But they haven’t helped you despite the fact you did it out of love.” Crowley argued. “They’re assholes.”  
“Maybe this language is what caused you to Fall!” Aziraphale said before covering his mouth, eyes wide as the demon turned away in anger. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“  
“I get it.” Crowley growled. “You angels are all like that, all high and mighty, up on your high horse. Well guess what, angel?” He spat out the word. “You’re down with us, now. So get over it, and accept that you are unloved by all of the others. They haven’t saved you because you aren’t worth it.” The harshness of his words shocked him and obviously cut the angel deeply as Aziraphale looked away and crumpled back to the floor.   
The silence and tension was thick enough that you could slice it with a knife. After several minutes of silence, the angel spoke up.   
“There’s a cut on your cheek.”   
“Really? I haven’t noticed.” Crowley said sarcastically.   
“Let me heal it.”   
The demon barked out a laugh as he continued to mop. “An angel healing a demon. Isn’t that illegal or something?”   
Almost the second he finished his sentence, Aziraphale was standing directly in front of him. Before he could do anything, the angel touched the cut. Immediately, the cut began to burn. Crowley yelped in pain and grabbed his face, but a few seconds later, both the pain and the cut were gone. He looked back at the angel in surprise and saw him gripping his arm in pain as the wrist band began to glow red hot. Aziraphale’s legs gave out and he gasped, curling up around his arm.   
“A-angel.” Crowley dropped the mop and quickly knelt down. That was the stupid, selfless angel he remembered. Helping someone despite the pain it could cause. He knew that the bracelet was sealed with demonic sigils, so maybe he could stop the pain. Closing his eyes, he grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist and held his hand over the band, focusing all of his demonic energy into that one spot until he felt the heat from the bracelet slowly make its way into his hand. He hissed in pain and shook his hand as he let go of the angels arm.  
Crowley looked down and was surprised to see the angel passed out on the floor. He didn’t know angels could pass out from pain. The skin beneath the bracelet was red and puffy. A second degree burn. He would live.   
A few hours later, Aziraphale was still on the ground and Crowley had just finished cleaning the tank. The demon headed for the door, but something made him stop right before the exit. The white-haired angel had risked his own safety in order to heal a tiny cut on his cheek. As bad of an angel Aziraphale was, he would never be as bad at being an angel than Crowley was at being a demon. He cursed himself for being soft as he went back to the collapsed man, looked around to make sure no one was looking, and healed his wrist.   
Now, they were even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my dudes! This chapter was done in two days due to the pain in my wrist, but I got it done!! And I’m pretty proud of it.   
> Please be understanding if my updates happen a slowly. I really don’t want to make my carpal tunnel any worse than it is.   
> Let me know what you think in the comments, and kudos if you liked it!!   
> Thank you so much for reading! I love you all!!


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley didn't require a kick in the side to get moving the next day. He had stayed up all night thinking about that fucking idiot angel and he wanted answers. In the middle of the night, he found himself pacing the corridors of hell, listening to the screaming souls and cries of agony until he couldn't stand it anymore.  
The door to the tank slammed shut behind him as the angel began to stir from his unconsciousness. It was before most of the demons started roaming around. They had to pass the tank in order for them to get up to the surface, so if Crowley had done this in broad daylight, he would have gotten much worse than this menial punishment.  
“Why the heaven am I doing this?” He asked himself as he touched one of the bite marks and focused. Slowly, the wound began to close.  
“Wh-What are you doing?” The angel blinked up at him, looking at him with beautiful, blue eyes. Damn him, why did he have to look so fucking hot?  
“Healing you,” he whispered, “now shut up and hold still.”  
After a few minutes later, the puncture wounds were mostly healed and Crowley felt like he was about to faint. As the last one closed up, he got up and stumbled backwards until his back hit the glass of the tank. He sighed and let himself sink to the ground. Aziraphale slowly sat up, obviously relieved that the pain was almost all gone.  
“I’d say thank you, but I don’t suppose you’d take kindly to that.” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, who shot a glare in his direction, and they both looked away. After a moment the angel cleared his throat. “I seem to remember that your name was something like Crawl when we first met.”  
“Crawly.”  
“Yes, well, what do you go by now? If you don’t mind me asking.” He quickly added before Crowley had a chance to react. He supposed that other demons wouldn’t be as easy on the angel as he was, and probably would only tell him using his own blood or would use some method of torture to tell him never to ask stupid questions again. Maybe the demon had been on earth too long, since none of these options sounded appealing to him.  
“Crowley.” He responded after a moment. “Anthony Crowley.”  
“Anthony Crowley.” Aziraphale said it slowly as if he was savoring the sound. “What a lovely name.”  
“Thanks.” Crowley’s mind was still hazy from the healing spells that he had just used, so he wasn’t all there when he said, “I wish I could take you to earth. It’s a lot nicer up there.”  
“Anywhere would be nicer than here, my dear boy.” Aziraphale smiled sadly. “But I don’t think I’ll be seeing the surface any time soon.”  
“No, I don’t suppose so.” Crowley sighed. “They’ll probably keep you down here for... well, forever.” Aziraphale’s expression went from neutral to distraught in a few seconds.  
“You...” the angel gulped, “you don’t think they’ll ever let me out?”  
“Well, if they let you out, they’re not exactly doing their job of creating a place of complete misery.” Crowley said, hoping that his poker-face and sunglasses would prevent the angel from seeing the look of pity and sadness. The face that Aziraphale was making completely tore Crowley up. “So, no.”  
There was another moment of silence.  
“I’ll tell you what.” Crowley stood up and strolled over to where the white haired angel sat. He began to slowly circle him unconsciously. “Once I get out of this punishment, I’ll help you escape.”  
“What?!” A look of hope flashed across his face before his expression went doubtful. “If this is a game you’re playing, then this is-“  
“I’m not playing any games.” Crowley shook his head. “Not lying. When I get out of here, I’ll somehow get you a day on the surface.”  
“That would be lovely.” Aziraphale began to get excited. “Maybe I could get a bite to eat. I haven’t had anything in 6,000 years, so it’d be very nice.”  
“Yeah, we could get something.” Suddenly, the last sentence hit him and he stopped his pacing. “Wait, did you say 6,000?”  
Aziraphale nodded, then furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “At least, I’m fairly certain it’s been 6,000.”  
“Wow.” He continued his walking. “You really haven’t been up there at all, have you?”  
“No.” The angel looked down, sadly. “What is it like now?  
“It’s all very fast.” Crowley stopped and started shifting from foot to foot, unable to stay still. “There are things that make humans able to go very far very quickly called ‘cars’. There are huge information hubs that you can keep in your pocket. They’re called ‘phones.’ They can also make their voices go through large distances with those devices as well.” For a while, Crowley spoke of the world above and the humans. He spoke of the good things as to not upset the angel, and told him of the amazing things they’ve created.  
“They really did amazing things after eden.” Aziraphale said in wonder when Crowley finally stopped talking.  
“And they probably wouldn’t have made them had there not been a stupid angel to protect them with a flaming sword.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted saying it. The angel smiled and he felt his heart beat faster. Something about Aziraphale made him feel safe and happy. Safe enough for him to say stupid shit like what he just said. Saying these things would probably get him a different, less pleasant punishment if another demon heard him complimenting the angel.  
“Why do you call me angel?” Asked Aziraphale, and Crowley was more than happy to move on.  
“Because that’s what you are!” He started pacing. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.  
“You seem to use it as a term of... almost... endearment.”  
“I have to go.” Crowley blurted out and rushed to the door, blushing furiously.  
“I’m- I’m so sorry i shouldn’t have-“ The door slammed shut behind him and he sighed in relief.  
He shouldn’t be feeling these things, not as a demon. As soon as anyone found out about them, he’d be in deep trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> This one is another chapter that I worked on last night and finished today. Sorry that this is a short chapter, I just needed to write a sweet one to get ready for the next one.  
> The next chapter is going to be a lot harsher than the others, so just be prepared for some rough stuff. I’m good at writing disturbing things, so it will hopefully turn out well, but this is just a warning to people who might be squeamish.  
> By the way, I’m writing all of this on my phone, so if there are any mistakes grammar-wise that you see and want me to fix, let me know and I’d be more than happy to do so!  
> Thanks to my wonderful beta for some corrections!! You can find her at ShesAKillerQueen98 on here. I’m actually her beta for her story too, so be sure to check it out!  
> Thank you for reading!!  
> Kudos if you are liking this, and comment for any questions or anything you want to tell me!  
> I love you all!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hinting at torture

Hell was like going to a sewer and finding enough people to fill an entire sports stadium. There weren't nearly as many demons as there were souls, so in order to make everyone miserable, they had souls standing in line to face their punishments, and since the people were not getting punished enough when they were simply in line, Satan himself devised a plan. He brought in some of the worst things that a normal person would have: the voices and screams of the other people being tortured at that time, screaming children, and crying babies. No one liked any of those sounds. Sometimes the waiting and the audio was enough to fully torture someone without doing anything, so whenever someone like that came to Hell, the demons silently rejoiced since they wouldn't have to do any work on that particular soul.  
After the Fall, the Fallen were quick to realize that Hell was not only meant to punish humans, but was also designed to torture them. It was hard being a demon; lots of souls to torture, and breaks were extremely rare. Most of them were overworked and exhausted and would be willing to do anything if it meant avoiding their job. The souls that were able to wait in line with their sanity intact became the ones who were traditionally tortured for eternity, but due to the shortage in demons, they would force one of the souls to hurt others just in order to cut down the workload. It’s true that demons liked hurting people, so their jobs were rather fun for them at first, but too much of a good thing starts to become boring. Eventually, the punishments became downright annoying.  
There was, however, one demon who clearly took no pleasure in causing physical torture and only really enjoyed making some trouble on the surface. Currently, this demon was standing in front of his boss who had moved out from behind their desk to stand directly in front of him, waiting to be told why the Heaven he was there.  
“There have been… strange reportz surrounding you and the angel.” They droned.  
“Well… it’s not like I’m helping hi- it.” Crowley cursed himself for stuttering and almost giving away the fact that he saw the angel as something more, something different than just an object.  
“I heard from a little bird that you healed it.”  
Crowley looked down at his feet. This was his worst nightmare. Well, his third worst nightmare, but it was close enough. He had, however, been working on a speech to avoid this moment.  
“Well?”  
“Lord Beelzebub, I promise that I was doing it to make it feel better so we can make it feel worse. The angel being healed makes it all the more painful when it starts getting physically tortured again.”  
“I’m imprezzed.” They said, nodding in approval. “That waz risky, and today we will find out how well your plan workz.” Their sickening smile showed rotten, stained teeth.  
“Wha- what exactly do you mean by that?” Crowley asked, his voice higher pitched than normal. He was trying to stay calm, but the panic started seeping in at the thought of Aziraph- the angel getting tortured.  
Damnit, he really did care about him.  
‘If this is true that I’m worried for his sake, then I’m a worse demon than I thought.’ He thought to himself.  
“We need to show that angel where it iz. Wouldn’t want to make it eazzy for it. Or pleazant. Thiz iz hell after all.”  
“Of course. Well, the hellhounds did seem hungry-“  
“I don’t mean the hellhoundz, Crowley.” Beelzebub put their hand on his shoulder. “You. You’re our zecret weapon. You gained iz trust. We all want you to have the honor of… putting it in it’z place.”  
Crowley swallowed and clenched his fist in fear.  
“M-me?”  
“Yez. You’re perfect for the job. It’z time for you to show uz your REAL demonicside.” They summoned a nine-tail whip and held it out for him. “It’z time for you to have some fun.”  
Crowley plastered on a fake smile and took the whip, his hand shaking slightly.  
“Thank you, lord Beelzebub.”  
“Make sure he knowz it’z you.” They turned around and walked back over to their desk. “It’ll make it hurt so much more than just some other demon.”  
“Right.” Crowley’s heart sank. He had to hurt the being he was finally starting to like. If the angel knew it was him, he was terrified that he would never forgive him. This was going to hurt him as much as it hurt Aziraphale, but didn’t want to be destroyed, and that was his only other choice.  
Crowley had to hurt the angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Sorry I’m not posting as much as I’d like to! I’ve been very busy and been having quite a few medical and mental health problems.  
> The majority of this chapter was written at night and on an iPhone, so if there are misspellings, it might have been because of the phone.  
> Once again, this is being posted and written in the middle of the night when I’m supposed to be asleep because I hate myself (joking!). Sorry about it being so short! I’m trying to make chapters at least 1000 words, but the rest of this scene needs to be done together, so I want to clump it all into one long chapter.  
> Please kudos if you like this! You can also comment if you like it and want to talk to me or tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can fix it! I will reply to every comment I can, so your voice will be heard!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: VIOLENCE, TORTURE  
> Stay safe!

‘Easy job.’ Crowley said to himself as he walked over to the doorway. ‘You used to do this hundreds of times before the beginning. This is no different than torturing anyone else.’  
But it was different. It was someone he actually... cared about. He hated that feeling, but it also felt so natural to him.   
He couldn’t think about his feelings now. He had a job to do.   
When he stepped into the tank, his heart dropped. As soon as the angel turned and saw it was him, a huge smile came across his face until he saw what Crowley was holding.   
“Oh.” Aziraphale said, looking down at the ground and blinking away tears. “I should have known.” He looked up at the demon defiantly. “I should have known never to trust a demon.”  
That comment stung. The angel sank to his knees and his wings appeared on his back as he shrugged his tunic so that it fell to his waist. Crowley tried hard not to wince at the crisscrossing scars on his back and the bald, scarred spots on his wings.   
“Do your worst.”  
All Crowley could do is stare at the angel. Seeing him like this was different and brought on different feelings for him. Shame, guilt, self-loathing, and embarrassment all began to swirl around in his head as he unfurled the whip. He really didn’t want to do this, but when he looked at the crowd gathering around the tank, he knew that if he didn’t, demons would report back to Beelzebub, and his self-preservation kicked in.   
WHOOSH.   
The first blow made Aziraphale cry out in pain, leaving a large, deep gash in between his shoulder blades. As he saw the damage he had done, he told himself that the rest of the lashes would be much softer blows. He hadn’t whipped anyone in a very long time, and he was rather out of practice. The second blow only caused the angel to flinch, and it barely broke the skin. No, it had to be a little harder. He couldn’t be too soft or Hastur would report his weakness to Beelzebub, who would most likely torture him, THEN destroy him because he had gotten too close to the enemy. After the fifth blow, he paused, going around to the front of him. Aziraphale looked up at him, his eyes filled with a rage that he thought only demons could possess.   
“Well?”   
Crowley desperately wanted to stop, to apologize and to make Aziraphale feel safe again, but when he looked behind him, he saw more than 50 demons watching, crowding around the tank, cheering. He took off his sunglasses and looked back at the angel, trying his best to show his remorse in his eyes, but Aziraphale just glared at the demon and he knew that his plan wouldn’t work. Crowley would have to wait until the crowd left for them to talk again.   
Crowley began to whip him slowly, trying not to flinch at every hiss or gasp of pain that came from his victim. Eventually, the crowd dissipated, getting distracted and bored by how long it was taking between each blow. He was careful not to hit his wings since they were the most sensitive part on the body of an immortal being.   
As the last stragglers left, Crowley let out a sigh of relief and dropped the gold- flecked whip.   
“Finally...” he said softly as he sat down behind the angel.   
“That was pathetic.” Aziraphale spit out. “I’d hardly call that a beating.”  
“Good.” Crowley said before he could stop himself.   
“What do you mean, ‘good’?” Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at Crowley who was obviously exhausted.   
“I didn’t say anything.” He lied, hoping that the angel would accept it.   
“No, I’m sure you said ‘good’.” Aziraphale turned around to face him, making pained noises as he moved, the gashes getting worse as the skin stretched and moved. “I may be gullible, but I’m not stupid.”   
“I... I just...” Crowley ran his hands through his hair. “Satan, I AM a poor excuse of a demon.”   
The angel looked utterly confused.   
“I don’t like traditional torture.” He muttered. “It’s boring.” Aziraphale’s expression hardened.   
“Yes, I know. You prefer mental torment, making people trust you before you stab them in the back.” Aziraphale hissed in pain. “Or whip them in the back.”  
Suddenly, he saw Beelzebub walk over to the door of the tank. They knocked, and Crowley got up to greet them.   
“What is it, my lord?” He asked, begging whatever would help him to let this conversation not go where he thought it would.   
“I got complaintz that the show waz too boring today.” They said with their arms crossed. “Next time, hit harder and faster, or you’ll be the one being whipped.”  
All of the color drained out of Crowley’s face. He desperately wanted to spare himself from the pain, but also hated doing it to Aziraphale despite the fact the angel now hated him.   
When he glanced back at the creature, there was a snow leopard where he had been, gold blood dripping down its sides.   
“Bring out the houndz and report to my office.” Beelzebub said before turning around and heading into the depths of Hell.   
“Fuck...” he whispered, trying his best not to punch something with all of his strength. He walked over to the large doorway that separated the angel and the hounds, and before he could do anything, he was hit with a huge wave of regret that made him fall to his knees. “Damnit, why did they have to do this to me?!”   
The leopard growled behind him and in a stupid effort to protect himself from being mauled (he knew that the angel wouldn’t hurt him, but his instincts said otherwise), he threw open the door and ran out of the tank, breathing heavily. He watched in horror as the hounds tore into Aziraphale, and felt tears prickling the back of his eyes. He attempted to blink them away and, to his relief, succeeded. After a few minutes, he couldn’t take the carnage and the pain of not being able to help.   
Crowley walked away feeling defeated. His only friend hated him now, and frankly he didn’t blame him. He wished that he could have said something to show the angel that this was not him, that he didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t. Not only did he not say anything, but he actually initiated the second part of the punishment just so he could be spared from pain.   
“I’m such a coward.” He mumbled to himself. “A selfish bastard.”  
So Crowley did the thing that he had always done when something upset him.   
He found a little quiet corner in Hell and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I wrote this chapter last night and my beta and I edited it this morning. There still may be some typos, but that’s because I am still stubbornly writing on my phone.   
> I actually have been writing a lot more recently. I got “the bug”, so that’s exciting!! The problem now is how to put the ideas down to match what I envision. It’s rather hard, but I think I’m doing a decent job. However, my SO is coming on Thursday, so I might not write for a few days.   
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Kudos and/or comment if you like this so far! If you want to talk to me, I’ll be reading every comment and I’ll try to respond to every single one of them. If you see any errors, just tell me in the comments and I’ll fix it ASAP!!   
> Thank you so much to my beta ShesAKillerQueen98 for the edits and for making sure it made sense. Go check out her work, she’s really cool and her work deserves attention!   
> I love you all, you wonderful, beautiful people!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sexual assault implied (nothing happens, don’t worry, just some disturbing dialogue)

It was a warm day. The sun was out, there were birds chirping, and flowers were blooming. Of course, Crowley’s plants had started blooming several months early due to some of his stranger habits around talking to plants. He had screamed at them day in and day out just to make sure they blossomed, then yelled at them more so that he could choose the best ones. One morning, he picked a few of their flowers as they shivered in fear. He inspected them in front of the plants, then dropped one of the blossoms on the floor and stomped on it, squishing it into the ground.   
“Pathetic.” He spit before walking out of the room and over to the sink, humming as he washed and cut the stems of the flowers, and wrapped them in a paper towel that miraculously would stay damp across London, but would dry when he reached his destination. With a smile, Crowley left the flat and stepped outside.   
Crowley’s car was parked in a handicap spot without legal paperwork, yet he had never gotten a ticket, and every legal issue disappeared once the cop got back to the office. At first, he did it because he was too lazy to walk across the parking lot AND up to his flat. Then, he saw how upset people got when the saw a non-handicap person using a handicap space, so he had taken that spot ever since.   
A few minutes later, Crowley had reached his destination. As he walked towards the shop, his heart began beating faster and faster. “A. Z. Fell and CO” read the large sign, it’s letters as clear as they had been for... well, forever.   
When he walked through the door, he was greeted by the smell of dusty, old books and a little bell. Crowley jumped in surprise when the bell rang out, but he was a demon which meant that he wasn’t scared by anything. Or he wasn’t supposed to be scared.   
Either way, he brushed himself off and slowly walked to the edge of the desk in the middle of the shop.   
“I’ll be there in a mo’!” He heard a familiar voice ring out from across the shop.   
“Take your time, angel,” he called out, “I’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the day, so how does a few drinks sound?”   
“That would be lovely, my dear.”  
—  
Crowley had laid down on the floor of Hell for a quick nap before he had to do anything. As soon as he realized that his nap was much longer than a day, he ran over to the tank. It had, in fact, been a week. If Aziraphale was alone for a week, then that meant that he must have been tortured by a different, not so... soft demon.   
When he opened the door, he saw Aziraphale turn towards him looking tired and dejected. His tunic was stained with blood, and he looked beyond exhausted. He was curled up into a tight ball, his forearms resting on his knees. There were a few bite wounds on his arms and legs, but the depth of those wounds were nothing compared to the marks he knew were on his back.   
“Here to mock me?” He asked.   
“No.”   
“Then you’re here to torture me.” The angel sighed and glared at the ground. “Demons are all so predictable.”  
“Well, I’m not a very predictable demon, then.” He said, sitting down on the floor, near enough to the door that if Aziraphale tried to attack him or maul him, he’d have an easy escape. “I’m not planning on doing that again. I won’t do it again. Not if I can help it.”  
Aziraphale looked at him, surprised, studying his face for any type of tell, some kind of sign that would show him if Crowley was lying. After a minute, he looked relieved and relaxed, his shoulders rolling slightly forwards.   
“I don’t feel any hostility in you. I know I shouldn’t, but I believe you.” He mumbled and Crowley sighed.   
“Finally. Angel, I never wanted to hurt you.” He shook his head tiredly. “Not my style. I like pissing people off, not... that.” He looked down, ashamed. There was a long pause as they both processed what was happening. Aziraphale looked so tired, his head hanging low, his curly hair wet with sweat and flecked with golden blood. Crowley blushed and looked away when the angel saw him staring.   
“Then why did you do it?” Aziraphale whispered. “Why?”  
“I had to, angel.” Crowley picked at a small crack in the ground. “If I wouldn’t, they’d do something to me. I don’t know what-“ Aziraphale held up his hand.   
“I understand, my dear boy.” Crowley desperately wanted to help him or kiss him or-  
Wait.   
Did he really just think about kissing an angel?   
“What the heaven am I doing?” He put his head in his hands. “I’m a bloody awful demon.”  
“Yes, well, you are the only demon I’ve never met who has sounded so... kind.”  
“‘M not kind.” Aziraphale faked a pout.   
“Of course you aren’t, my dear.” He said sarcastically, and Crowley rolled his eyes.   
“I didn’t come here just to be insulted!” The demon said playfully, then he got up and crossed his arms. He slowly walked towards Aziraphale who began to slowly lean away, shocked, then embarrassed and panicked.   
“Of-of course!” Aziraphale laughed nervously, as he started to crawl backwards, away from Crowley in fear.   
“That’s... I just... I’m not going to hurt you. Just stay still.” He said, and the angel froze. Crowley walked behind him and pulled at the back of his tunic. “I need you to pull this down. I want to see your back.”  
Hesitantly, Aziraphale shrugged the garment off his shoulders, exposing his injuries and allowing the demon to see the extent of the damage.   
“I- I know what you’re doing,” said Aziraphale muttered, shivering as Crowley gently touched his back, “and I think you should rethink this. I don’t want-“  
“I need you to hold still,” he said, “because, honestly, this might be rather painful for one of us. Although, I think we both might be sore after this.”  
“Then, why do it? It’d be better if-“  
Crowley began to heal the angel’s wounds, and Aziraphale gripped his garment tightly and clenched his teeth as his skin began to heal itself. Crowley’s hand started shaking and burning as he focused all of his energy on healing the angel. After a minute, the cuts had all been taken care of. Crowley clutched his wrist, trying to breathe through the pain.   
“There we go.” He said between clenched teeth. “Done.”  
Aziraphale watched as Crowley walked back to his position directly in front of him. The angel blushed and let out a sigh of relief, putting his tunic back on.   
“Thank the lord.” He whispered shakily, blinking away tears.   
“Hm?” Crowley looked up at him, confused.   
“I thought you were... well...”   
“No!” Crowley looked at him in horror. “I’d never! Not to anyone. I’d rather be tortured than do that.”   
“Well, I thought-“  
“I told you I don’t want to hurt you.” Crowley looked at Aziraphale, making eye contact. “I don’t. I really don’t. Just because I’m a demon, that doesn’t mean I’m like them.”  
“Well, you did Fall.” Aziraphale pointed out. “You must have done something.”  
“I didn’t mean to Fall,” he said, “just hung around the wrong people.”  
Aziraphale looked distant for a moment.   
“You know,” he said, “I don’t understand why someone like YOU would Fall, anyway.”  
“What’s THAT supposed to mean?!” Crowley puffed himself up like an angry cat.   
“You’re... well... different.” The angel said carefully. “You’re not like the others. You’re... you have empathy.”  
Crowley sighed.   
“I get it, I’m a really shitty demon. You don’t have to rub it in.”  
“No!” Aziraphale looked shocked. “No no no, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I actually meant it in a rather good way. In fact I... I would like to call you my friend.”  
Crowley cracked a small smile, his heart pounding in his chest.   
“Wow, an angel who’s friends with a demon.” He let out a laugh. “And you say I’m the bad one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y’all!   
> I’m rather proud of this chapter. I think I did well. Even though there’s not much happening, it was really hard for me to write since I am awful at dialogue. Now, I feel a little more confident in that area.   
> I was going to post this chapter last night, but I ended up having to go to the ER. I’m alright now, just had a small problem that needed to be fixed immediately. I’m lucky that my SO could drive me to the hospital. They live 3 hours away from my school, but they happened to be coming this weekend anyway.   
> My classes are getting extremely hard, but the more I work, hopefully the more I write. When I’m in work mode, I have a hard time turning it off.  
> Anyway, that’s my life update.   
> Thank you so much to my wonderful beta and best friend ShesAKillerQueen98 for being awesome and putting up with my lack of self esteem about my writing, and for getting me motivated to write more. Go check her fanfic out! It’s pretty damn good in my opinion!   
> Kudos and/or comment if you like it. Every kudos and comment makes me want to work twice as hard for you guys. I will also be answering all comments, so if you want to speak with me, just leave a comment down below.   
> Love you all!!


	7. Chapter 7

“... I would like to call you my friend.”  
Those words bounced around in Crowley’s head as he tossed up a ball of hellfire into the air above him. He was laying on his back in an abandoned office in Hell. While the office desk was not comfortable in the slightest, it was better (and a little cleaner) than the floor, however, for some odd reason, he didn’t feel like sleeping. He just felt like thinking about those words over and over and over again.   
“... my friend.”   
The angel had called him his friend. That concept should disgust him. It should make him want to throw up in his stupid, handsome face. A demon being friends with an angel should be sickening and wrong. But it wasn’t. Somehow, their friendship made sense. It made him wonder if they could grow to become more than that.   
He threw the ball up and caught it in his other hand. He began tossing it from hand to hand, the warm sensation reminding him of his time on the surface. The hellfire felt like a warm sun on a cool day to him. The combination of the hellfire and the thought of the angel made him grin.  
The distinct sound of heels on hard floor sounded down the hallway, and as it got closer, Crowley wiped the smile off his face, made the ball disappear, and rolled over, hoping to make the demon think he was asleep. When the sound stopped right outside the door, he closed his eyes and held his breath.   
“Crowley, I know you’re awake.” The voice of his boss sounded out behind him. He sighed and rolled over to face them, not bothering to put his sunglasses back on.   
“What?” He asked grumpily. “I thought I was still on my break.”  
“Actually, it’zz about your punishment.” Beelzebub glared at him and for a moment, his heart sank. What were they going to make him do next? He didn’t want to hurt the angel. He really didn’t. He-  
“You’re free to go back to the surface.” They spun on their heel and began to walk away, leaving a shocked Crowley behind them. He swung his legs over the side of the desk and sprinted after them.   
“Wait, what the heaven do you mean?” He looked at them, his eyes wide.   
“Your punishment iz over. Go back to your dutiezz.” They said, obviously annoyed and not turning to face him. Crowley’s heart soared. It took all of his willpower to prevent himself from pumping his fist in the air.   
His head was buzzing with excitement as he quickly headed for the exit. A million questions were running through his mind. How long has he been in Hell? What had happened while he was gone? How many of the pennies that he had superglued to the ground were still there? Were his plants still alive? Was the Bentley okay?  
Crowley was so preoccupied in his own thoughts that he didn’t even look into the tank. If he had, he would have been broken-hearted at the sight of the angel being attacked by hellhounds. He would have seen Aziraphale call out to him as he walked by. He would have seen the devastation on the angels face when the angel knew that he was leaving him behind.   
After being in Hell, the London air never tasted sweeter, even with all of the pollution and filth that covered the streets. Crowley’s footsteps quickened as he looked up and saw his car, his heart pounding. He snapped and a pair of sunglasses appeared on his face as he left the building and got into his Bentley, smiling as he revved the engine.   
“I’ve missed you.” He said as he floored the gas pedal and went speeding off into the streets.   
When he got into his apartment, it was exactly the way he left it except for one thing. All of the plants in his apartment had died. He growled in frustration, then grabbed the nearest pot and smashed it on the ground.   
“YOU’RE A BLOODY AWFUL LOT, AREN’T YOU?!” He bellowed. “YOU’RE ALL DISGUSTING.”   
He took another plant and smashed it on the ground as the others began to shiver weakly. Slowly, they began to get greener and greener right in front of his eyes.   
“Thaaat’s it.” He nodded and glared at the plants as they sped up their growing. In a few minutes, the plants started to look like normal plants again.   
“I’m going to get the mister. If I come back and see one wilting leaf I will not hesitate!” He threatened. As he left the room, he snapped his fingers, and the two pots that had been smashed were back where they had been sans the plants that had been in them. When he came back into the room, it looked like he had never left. The demon smiled and began to water his plants as they shook in terror.   
When Crowley had finished, he decided to go down to the shops to buy himself some new ones to replace the ones he had destroyed. When he got there, two of them caught his eye. One was a Venus fly trap, and the other was an angel wing. He walked out with those two plants as well as a few more pots and some seeds that he wanted to try to grow. He had had difficulty growing these particular plants from seeds, so this time he was determined to make them grow, no matter how much shouting was necessary.  
As he was driving home, his mind began to wander. It was a rather nice day out; warm, with a slight wind. There were a few white puffy clouds dotting the sky here and there, but no cloud cover. He wondered if Aziraphale would like the weather today.  
Wait.   
Aziraphale.   
He had left the angel in Hell.   
For a moment, he panicked, almost swerving to turn the car around before catching himself and taking a deep breath. Crowley was a demon. He didn’t care about a stupid angel. The angel could get tortured to death and he wouldn’t bat an eye, right? At least, that’s how he should feel. Why did he feel so... so... was this what guilt felt like?   
He gripped the steering wheel, gritted his teeth, and continued back to his flat, parking in the handicap spot and bolting up to his apartment, slamming the door behind him. He gently placed the new plants in their spots and gave them a speech about what would happen if they so much as yellowed in one leaf, but they didn’t shake in terror. Not yet. He would have to work on them, but eventually they’d come around.   
As night fell, Crowley headed into his bedroom and threw himself down. He had missed sleeping in a nice, cushy bed with pillows and blankets. It was far nicer than the floors and desks in Hell.   
As Crowley laid in bed, his mind wandered back to the angel once again. What was he doing now? Who was “taking care of him”? He thought about how kind he was, how he didn’t even try to harm Crowley even after he had tortured him. He thought about how he had called him his “friend,” and how smitten he had been. The feeling of guilt crept up on him again, filling his mind. He thought of the hatred that had burned in the angels eyes as he whipped him. Would he hate him like that for leaving?   
He groaned and put the pillow over his head as if he could block out his own feelings like they were sounds. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care about anyone else before this, so why should this angel be any different?   
But Aziraphale was different.   
Finally, Crowley growled in frustration and got up. He had to do SOMETHING to put his mind at ease, so he began to do the only thing he knew would make him feel better.   
Crowley began planning Aziraphale’s escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Long time no see! Sorry about that. This coronavirus thing has really been getting to me. It’s made me extremely depressed and unmotivated to do much. I did manage to push out this chapter, though, so that’s good.   
> Updates will be very slow for now until I get into a good rhythm. I promise you, I will NOT give up on this story. It’s my baby.   
> Thank you again to my wonderful beta ShesAKillerQueen98 for helping me out! I couldn’t have done this without her support.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos if you’re enjoying it so far! I’m fact, you could even bookmark it!! Comments are always appreciated, and I’ll respond to all comments as soon as I can.   
> Love you all!


	8. Chapter 8

20 minutes. That’s all he had.   
Crowley was standing outside of the imposing building that was the front for both Heaven and Hell pacing nervously. He had already planned out everything down to the last second, but if one unexpected thing happened, his life could be in jeopardy. The anxiety was beginning to make his head spin, and he was already tired after not getting any sleep the other night, so his emotions started to make him doubt his abilities. It had already been a week since he had left Hell, which was the equivalent of a month in their time. Would he even remember him? He shook his head.   
‘Snap out of it, Crowley.’ He said to himself. ‘You’re the only demon who has the balls to do this. And the stupidity. But, I don’t care about him. I just want to make the other demons pay.’   
However, he still couldn’t shake off the feelings he got when he thought of him. A pang of guilt shot through him as he realized that he was using his demonic powers for GOOD. If they found out, he’d be toast.   
Finally, Crowley went into the building and took a deep breath. He shook out his hands, then wiggled his fingers.   
At last, he was ready.   
Crowley closed his eyes and snapped.   
Everything stopped. The noise, the hustle and bustle of every day life, the honking of cars, it was all silent. Frozen.   
Crowley had stopped time.   
Immediately he began to run down the escalator to Hell. The demon made his way through the crowds of demons and damned souls, careful not to touch anyone, almost crashing into quite a few of them. Right before he reached Beelzebub’s office, he tripped over his own feet and fell flat onto his face, and for a second he lost control. Demons began to walk again, some glancing down at Crowley in confusion, luckily no one he knew. Quickly, he stood up and snapped again. Once again, time froze.   
He ran into the office and looked around. He began searching through drawers and looking under the papers scattered all over their desk. The demon cursed. Why did his boss have to be so disorganized?!  
After about five minutes, he gave up, starting to feel the exhaustion from using his demonic abilities. When he turned around to leave the office and give up on his mission, he facepalmed. The key was hanging right by the door.   
Quickly, Crowley grabbed the key and ran over to the giant tank. He turned the key in the lock and was extremely relieved to hear the click of the door unlocking. He hadn’t been entirely certain that it was the correct one, so that sound was like music to his ears.   
Luckily, there was no one in or around the tank at that moment to see what he was about to do. The demon ran over to Aziraphale and grabbed the wrist with the strange band and closed his eyes, using a fraction of the energy he had left to break the infernal thing off of the angel. As soon as it had clattered to the door, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, unfreezing him, and began to run. The angel trailed behind him, confused.   
“Cr-Crowley?” He stuttered.  
“Yup. I’m getting you out of here.” Crowley began to speed up his pace as he felt his powers fading. “Don’t touch anyone and don’t slow down.”  
“Why are you helping me? We hardly know each other, yet you’re risking your life-“  
“Because fuck the other demons. They’re dicks and I hope they take out their aggression on each other.”  
“I see.” Was all Aziraphale said.   
Crowley was relieved to hear that Aziraphale catching up to him as they made their way through the crowds of people and demons.   
“What the Hell happened to everyone?”  
Crowley shook his head. “Not the time nor the place to explain. Now, c’mon angel, I can only keep this up for another three minutes, and we have to make it up the stairs and to my car.” He sped up, sweating, gritting his teeth, and relieved to hear that Aziraphale was following him closely.   
“What’s a car?”  
“Questions later, angel.”  
“Right.”  
They made it up the escalator with one minute to spare. Quickly, they ran over to the Bentley and Crowley was able to shove Aziraphale into the passenger’s seat before he was forced to unpause the world. Finally, he got into the drivers seat and floored the gas. They jolted forward, and sped towards his flat.  
Aziraphale was safe.   
For now.   
—  
“Make yourself at home.” Crowley told Aziraphale as they walked into his flat. Immediately, without even looking at where Aziraphale was or what he was doing, Crowley marched into his room and threw himself onto his bed. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes.   
“Crowley?” The demon opened one eye and looked at Aziraphale, annoyed.   
“What?” He said in a flat voice, and the angel blushed.   
“Never mind.” The angel faked a smile, shaking his head. He turned to walk away and Crowley sat up, sighing.   
“Angel, what is it?”   
“It’s nothing, my dear boy. I’m just being silly.” Aziraphale said over his shoulder as he walked towards the sofa. “I suppose I can sleep out here. Are there any blankets I could-“  
“Are you sure you want to sleep out there?” Crowley said, suppressing a blush of his own. “I mean, you could sleep in here with me.”  
“Oh, that would be lovely!” Aziraphale spun around, obviously relieved, and walked over to the other side of the bed. “You’re very kind.”   
Crowley shot up in bed and pointed angrily at him.   
“‘M not kind. I’m a demon.” He glared, but for some reason he couldn’t get angry at the angel.   
“Of course.” Aziraphale pouted playfully, and Crowley fought back a smile. Bless it, why did he have to feel this way?  
He turned away and plopped himself down on the bed.   
“‘Night, angel.”  
“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m really exhausted now, but I want to talk to you guys before passing out. This COVID situation is insane, huh? I’m buried in school work, and I have a hard time working at my parents house in general, so it’s going to be a little difficult for me in these next few weeks. I’ll still try to update as much as I can, but please understand if I can’t write a chapter every week.  
> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to see more of this when it comes out, click that bookmark button! If you liked the story, please give me kudos and maybe a comment!   
> Love you all!!


	9. Chapter 9

Teaching an angel that had never seen a bathroom how to use a shower was an absolute nightmare. When he was finally able to get the water running, it had been an hour.   
“Yup. That’s it.” Crowley said, relieved that Aziraphale had finally turned on the shower. The angel was out of practice using his miracles, so using one to turn on a shower would be as hard as hitting a hole-in-one from ten miles away. “I’ll just, uh,” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck, then quickly turned around, “I’ll leave you to it.”   
“Okay.” Aziraphale said unsurely as the demon walked out of the bathroom. As soon as the bathroom door closed, Crowley walked over to his bed and flung himself onto his back.   
“So, this is it.” He said to himself. “Break out the angel. Right. Now what?” He quickly sat up, closing his eyes as the dizziness from head rush hit him. “They’re gonna come after him. After me, possibly.” He groaned and put his head in his hands. “Of course they’ll come after me, don’t be daft, they probably already know it was me.”   
“I don’t think they do.” A voice sounded out, and Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin. Aziraphale walked in from the bathroom, drying his hair with one towel, the other wrapped around his waist. “I might have... done something.”   
“What did you do?” Crowley got up, surprised and horrified.   
“I may have...” Aziraphale looked away, embarrassed. “I may have planted a bit of my hair in some of the other demons pockets as we were slipping away.”  
“Wh-what?!”  
He shrugged and looked around for somewhere to put the towel that he had used to dry his hair. Crowley sighed and held out his hand.   
“Oh. Thank you.” Aziraphale gave a quick smile and handed it back to him. “I figured we’d need a distraction. Several demons with angelic power radiating off of them should buy us time.”  
Crowley carefully folded the towel, looking everywhere except at the angel. When he glanced back at him, he saw Aziraphale awkwardly staring at him.   
“What?” He said, irritated.   
“Do you have anything clean for me to wear?” Aziraphale shivered. “It is quite cold in here.”   
“Oh. Right.” Crowley blushed as he walked over to his closet and started searching through it. ‘Stupid demon,’ he chided himself, ‘shoulda remembered he couldn’t miracle himself clothes.’ He found some articles of clothes that were too big on him and were no longer his style, a white hoodie and some black sweatpants (clothes he had only worn when he had to go on some strange jobs). Then, he ushered the angel back into the bathroom, handed him the clothes, then closed the door again. When the other man stepped out, he face-palmed.   
“Aziraphale, the sweatshirt is on backwards.”   
—  
Walking through the streets with Aziraphale turned out to be a strange experience as well. He stopped every few feet to point or marvel at something or another, stating how advanced humans had gotten, how strange the world was now, how incredibly crowded the world had become.   
“There were only two humans when I was here before!” He smiled giddily. “And, of course, one on the way, but look at how many people there are now!”  
“Yup.” Crowley popped the P at the end of the word. “What do you want to do?”   
“Me?!” Aziraphale said, shocked and pointing at himself.   
“No, the lamp post over there- of course, you. What do you want to do?” The demon shuffled from one foot to the other. “Walk in the park, see some nature again, go to a place called a museum to see all of the new marvels the humans have come up with-“  
“But you can see all of that out here, can’t you?” Aziraphale asked.   
“No!” Crowley let out a sharp laugh, and Aziraphale frowned. “This isn’t even close to even one hundredth of what they’ve invented. You know what horses are, right?”  
“Well, of course I know what they are.” Aziraphale cocked his head in confusion. “I was there when the Almighty made them, remember?”   
“They used to ride on the backs of horses.”   
The angels mouth dropped open in shock.   
“And they’ve made these things called cars to replace them.”  
“Well, thank God.” Aziraphale huffed. “It must have been so painful and exhausting for the horse to be ridden.”  
“Yes, well, humans don’t seem to care about hurting other species.” Crowley said quickly. “Now-“  
“What do you mean by that?” Aziraphale looked at him in shock and horror.   
“Well...” Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “They’ve hunted a few animals to extinction-“  
“WHAT?!”   
“-and hunt others for sport-“  
“You must be joking!”  
“-and... oh...” When Crowley looked up, there were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Maybe... we should talk about something else.”   
“Yes, I think that’d be best.” Aziraphale nodded, wiping the tears away.   
“Well... you haven’t answered my question, angel. What would you like to do?”   
“I think...” The angel thought for a moment. “I think I’d like to try some food. I’ve heard many souls longing for it. I’d always wondered if it tasted as good as it did in Eden.”  
“Oh, it tastes much better. Especially the drinks. They’ve made drinks out of fermented fruits that make you feel wonderful.”  
“Fermented fruits?” Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What could they make from that?”  
“Let me show you.” Crowley smirked, leading Aziraphale to the nearest pub. Getting an angel drunk would be the best temptation he had ever done. It would also be loads of fun. “Believe me, you’re gonna love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello y’all! It’s been a hot minute.  
> Sorry about the huge pause. It’s been complicated around the house. It’s rough.  
> Anyway, I hope that you guys are fairing well! I know these are scary times, but remember to practice self care! It doesn’t have to ALL be bad.   
> Kudos if you liked it a lot. Comments are always awesome! I will respond to all comments that come my way!   
> Thank you for reading and staying with me through this!  
> Love y’all!


	10. Chapter 10

“I insist you take me there at once!” Aziraphale crossed his arms, refusing to go into the pub. Crowley had been able to get him to the entrance only to have him stop and shake his head, saying that he wouldn’t go in without getting new clothes.   
“Angel, no one is going to care-“  
“I care! There are too many people inside, and for them to see me like... like this?” He gestured at his hoodie and sweatpants.   
“I think it looks fine!”   
“Crowley,” Aziraphale looked him straight in the eye, “I’m not going in there unless I change into something... presentable.”  
Crowley sighed, rolling his eyes under his sunglasses.   
“Fiiiine. There’s a shop across the street that sells some nice clothes. They’re not comfortable, but- and there he goes.” Aziraphale had already started excitedly speed-walking over to the little shop. The demon quickly caught up with him as he opened the door and stepped inside. Aziraphale looked in awe at the suits and fancy attire. Quickly, he reached up and pulled a plain, white button up shirt off the racks, then started immediately taking his hoodie off.   
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Crowley pulled the sweatshirt back down onto him, looking around, making sure no one saw him start undressing in the middle of the store, “you don’t do that here.”   
“Oh.” Aziraphale looked around. “Where do I do that, then?”  
“Let’s ask someone-“  
“I should get some trousers first.” He interrupted the demon, making a beeline for the tan section of the store.   
“Okay.” Crowley raised his eyebrows and slowly walked in his direction. Right as he started looking for the angel, he saw him practically run over to the vest section, picking out a white, patterned vest. Excitedly, Aziraphale walked over to him, almost stumbling over his own feet.   
“Now, where do I put these on?”   
“Changing room ‘s right over there.” He pointed and almost before he could blink, Aziraphale had disappeared once again.   
After a few minutes of hearing no noise from the stall, Crowley started to get worried. He quietly knocked on the door.  
“H-hello?” Aziraphale’s pitch was a little higher than usual. Crowley breathed out a sigh of relief. He was still safe.   
“Angel, you okay? Do you need help?”  
“A-actually, I would like to have your opinion on it, Crowley.” He said. A second later, the stall opened, revealing a blushing and fidgeting angel. Crowley’s mouth fell open.   
Aziraphale wore the look well. The shirt was tucked into his trousers, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The shirt perfectly fit his curves, slightly loose in some points, but mostly well fitting. His new vest fit him amazingly well, beautiful silk lining showing off the embroidery of white vines going up his chest. The trousers were stunning on him, fitting tightly, accentuating his leg muscles as if he was showing off. Crowley wondered how he would look from behind...  
Aziraphale’s voice brought him back to the present.   
“How...” he swallowed nervously. “How do I look?”  
‘Amazing.’ Crowley thought. ‘Absolutely stunning. Wonderful. Perfect.’   
He shook himself out of his thoughts, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.   
“Yeah, you... you look good, angel.”   
“Oh, wonderful!” He sighed in relief, giving his vest a slight tug downwards in order for it to fit more comfortably. “Shall we go to the... other place?”  
“Oh, yeah, the pub.” Crowley had gotten so wrapped up in Aziraphale’s looks (and body) that he had forgotten where they were headed off to in the first place. He snapped his fingers, and the hoodie and sweatpants were back in the closet at home. The two men walked out the door without a care in the world.   
Until they realized they hadn’t paid.   
“Don’t wait up for me, angel.” He waved his hand. “I’ll be there soon. Make some friends! Have some fun! And for Satan’s sake, buy yourself a drink.” The demon gave Aziraphale one of his credit cards, then hurried back to pay for the outfit.   
For a moment, he pondered about why he was paying for the stolen goods that HE had taken. He was a demon, after all. Demons stole, killed, and tortured, yet he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving a store without paying for the merchandise he wanted.   
He pinched the bridge of his nose and growled, trying to get rid of the thoughts that were plaguing his mind. The cashier looked at him nervously.   
“Are you okay, sir?” She asked tentatively.   
“Yeah. Fine.” He snatched his other credit card from her hands as soon as she was done with the transactions. It took him a lot of effort to not thank her, but he was a demon, right? He was supposed to be bad.   
Crowley practically stumbled over his own feet as he tried to rush out of the shop. He walked quickly towards the pub, shoving through the crowd.   
“Excuse me, sir,” a woman walked up to Crowley with a man following closely behind, “would you-“  
“Out of my way.” He growled, teeth clenched as he tried to muscle his way past the two when the woman grabbed his arm with an iron grip.   
“Excuse me,” she said again impatiently, “but you’re a demon, right?”  
Crowley looked at her in shock.   
Oh... fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Aziraphale is a taaaall drink of water and Crowley is THORSTY. Sorry, had to get that out of the way.  
> I got a new medication that SHOULD help me with my depression and motivation. I’ve been writing almost every night now, so I should be back on track for doing one chapter about every week until this is done. Hopefully.   
> I had some new ideas for this story, and I hope you guys like where it’s going! It’s really wonderful writing again.  
> Thank you so much to my wonderful, amazing beta ShesAKillerQueen98 for editing and helping me talk out some ideas!   
> Kudos this if you like the story and would like to see more! If you comment, I WILL respond, I promise!   
> Love you all!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Alcohol (just in case anyone needs this tagged) and a creeper

“Excuse me,” she said again impatiently, “but you’re a demon, right?”  
Crowley looked at her in shock.   
Oh... fuck.   
—

“What?” Crowley feigned confusion.   
“Look, I know you’re a demon.” The woman rolled her eyes, brushing her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “I need to talk to you. This is important.”  
“How about we discuss this over drinks?” The man following her said. He was awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, wearing a strange shoulder bag that looked rather old and beaten up. His shirt looked just about in the same condition, as were his glasses. Everything looked like it was handed down to him by some old dead guy. The mans’ voice brought Crowley out of his rumination. “We really shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the crosswalk.”  
The woman and the demon looked around in surprise, noting that they were in the middle of the street.  
“Oh,” the woman said shortly, “well, I guess you’re right.” She let go of Crowley’s arm, and he very clearly brushed himself off as if she had dirtied his outfit, making sure she saw what he was doing. She looked at him with annoyance.   
“I was heading to the pub, anyway.” Crowley muttered as they began walking again. “Got a friend waiting there.”  
“That’s the angel, right?”   
Crowley spun around in surprise as they walked in the establishment.   
“How the Heaven did you know THAT?!” He asked, squinting his eyes.   
“I know quite a lot, actually.” She adjusted her glasses onto the bridge of her nose as she walked over to the bar. “I believe you met my relative a while back. You might remember her. Agnes Nutter?”  
“Oh, ol’ Agnes! Yes! Lovely woman. A bit crazy, but...” he paused, putting the pieces together, “one of the last prophets. Are you-“  
“No, I’m not gifted in that way.” The lady gave him a thin smile. “I’m Anathema. That’s Newt.” The man behind her waved nervously. “He’s my boyfriend.”  
“So, which one is the angel?” Newt asked, looking around. Crowley sighed. There was no point in hiding it any more.   
“The one in the white vest.”   
“Ah.” The man nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” He leaned on the bar next to Crowley.   
“Thanksss...” Crowley accidentally hissed, cursing himself for slipping, “I guess.”  
“Look,” Anathema looked at him seriously over her glasses, “you’re in trouble. Big. Trouble.”  
“Yeah, I know.” He looked around nervously. Was this a trap? “Hell wants him back. He’s not going back. He’s mine.” As the words passed his lips, he almost flinched at how possessive and how outright DEMONIC he sounded. “If they think they can-“  
“Oh, it’s not just Hell.” Anathema shook her head. “It’s-“  
“Hey, guys?” Newt nudged Crowley.   
“What is it?” Crowley sighed, looking over at him.   
“Didn’t you say that the angel was the one in the white vest?”  
“Yeah?!” Crowley growled, “Were you even listening, you daft-  
“Then who’s that?” Newt pointed at Aziraphale, and the demons blood went cold.   
There were about 7 shot glasses on the bar next to him. His cheeks were pink from the alcohol, and there was a man sitting with him. The other mans hand was on his thigh.   
“What-“  
The stranger gently took Aziraphale’s wrist and started pulling him away from the bar and over to one of the back rooms.   
Crowley walked quickly in front of Aziraphale and the stranger, stopping them in their tracks.   
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He asked, putting his hands on his hips.   
“None of your business.” The stranger replied, tightening his grip on Aziraphale’s wrist. “We’re just having a nice time! Right?”   
Aziraphale smiled, his cheeks flushed by the alcohol.   
“C’mon, love, this way.” The other man tried to side step Crowley, but he refused to let them pass.   
“Aziraphale, you’re drunk.” He reached for Aziraphale’s arm only to have his hand slapped away by the stranger.   
“We are both adults. We can make our own decisions. Isn’t that right, Azi, love?”   
Aziraphale nodded.   
“He’s not in his right mind!” The demon said through clenched teeth. “He’s my friend. We are going home. Now.” The demon reached for the angels arm only to have the other man step forward.   
“Hands off!” He shoved Crowley back away from them.   
“You’re the one who needs to be ‘hands off,’ human.” Crowley growled and pulled Aziraphale out of the mans grasp.   
“You bastard!” The man drew his fist back and punched Crowley straight in the jaw before grabbing hold of a frightened Aziraphale.   
“It’s alright, love.” The stranger said as Crowley wiped his bleeding mouth with the back of his hand. “Let’s go somewhere more... private.”  
As they were leaving, Crowley grabbed the mans shoulder, swung him around, and punched him. Hard. The man fell to the ground, unconscious.   
“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, looking at him in shock. “What on Earth did you do that for?!”  
“We’re leaving.” He said shortly, taking hold of the angels arm. “Now.”  
“Crowley, you’re-you’re being ridiculous.” The angel slurred, stumbling slightly as they walked to the door.   
“And you’re absolutely sloshed.” Crowley dragged him out of the pub, and when he looked behind him, he found that Newt and Anathema were still following.   
‘I’m going to regret this.’ Crowley thought as he spun around, letting go of Aziraphale for a second.   
“I guess we can meet tomorrow if this matter is truly desperate.”  
“Oh, it is.” Anathema assured him. “We should meet at my cottage. Here’s the address.” She handed him a scrap of paper.   
“Did you know-“   
“Yes.” She sighed. “That’s why I wrote it down. I didn’t want to waste time. We can’t afford that.”  
The ominous tone was interrupted by the sound of Aziraphale gasping as he tripped. Luckily, Crowley was able to catch him before he hit the pavement, but as soon as he stood back up, he began swaying. Crowley sighed in exasperation and wrapped his arm around the angel to keep him steady.   
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Anathema gave him a tight smile, then spun on her heel and headed off into the other direction, Newt following close behind.   
With a snap, Aziraphale and Crowley we’re back in the immaculate flat. Crowley put the angel down on the sofa and was about to get up to get some water when the other mans hand covered his. The demon froze.   
“What an odd couple.” Aziraphale muttered as he gently placed his head on Crowley’s shoulder.   
A sensation that felt like ice water hit him and he stiffened up.  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, “I have something to confess.”   
“O-oh?” He stuttered, his brain short-circuiting.   
The only answer he got was slowed breathing. When he looked over at the other man in confusion, he found that Aziraphale had passed out.   
“Bloody idiot.” Crowley muttered before gently picking up the angel and carrying him into his bedroom. He placed him onto the bed and rolled him on his side, just in case.   
It wasn’t because he was worried about the angel dying. He was scared of what Hell would do if they found out he’d been discorporated. Obviously. Not because he cared about him.   
For a moment, he stood beside the bed, his brain hard at work with the decision to either sleep in the bed with him or not. After a while, he chose to sleep on the sofa. That way, if Aziraphale’s threw up, it wouldn’t be on him.   
Not at all because it was the right thing to do. Not at all because he was worried what Aziraphale would think if he woke up in bed with Crowley. It wasn’t for the angel. It was strictly demonic selfishness.   
Crowley nodded, flopped onto the sofa, and fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Weekly updates might be a thing that starts happening. My new medication seems to make me feel more creative, so I’m able to write more (as long as I’m not completely depressed).   
> I’ve been trying to spend more time with my SO, so the next few chapters may be shorter than this one, but I promise I’ll get them out!  
> I’m gonna try to update every Sunday, so I’ll see you guys then!  
> Kudos if you liked it, comment if you have any questions, want to talk, or enjoy reading this!   
> Love you all!!   
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

The next day, Crowley woke up from a restless sleep with a crick in his neck and a bad attitude. He sat up, stretched his back and yawning, then groaned and put his face in his hands.   
“Whichever demon created sleep hangovers is going to get a stake rammed up their arse as soon as I get back Down There.”   
Aziraphale stumbled into the room, shielding his eyes from the bit of sunlight that filtered through the window.   
“Why do I feel so dreadfully unwell?” He mumbled, looking at Crowley with his eyes squinted.   
“I think you, angel, deserve that. That is what humans call a hangover.”   
“What did I do to deserve this?!” He protested quietly.   
“You downed more drinks in a few minutes than I usually drink in a night, and that is no easy feat. Having that much fun comes with a cost.” He snorted, then looked at Aziraphale, who stood at the foot of the sofa, glaring at him, his cheeks pink from embarrassment. Suddenly, Crowley started to feel this feeling in his chest, as if a weight was pressing down on top of him, and he felt... bad. There was that feeling of guilt again. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you something.”  
“Oh, thank you.” The angel’s face brightened up and he shot a smile in the demons direction as he sat down on the couch. “That’s very...” he stopped himself before quickly stammering, “th-thank you.”  
“Yup.” Crowley waved his hand as he sauntered into the kitchen.  
“Can’t believe I’m doing favors for an angel- what kind of demon am I?” He muttered to himself as he grabbed a glass and turned on the faucet.   
“A really bad one, that’s what I am.” He sighed. “A really bloody awful demon.”   
“Is that such a bad thing?”   
Crowley almost dropped the glass as the angel spoke up behind him.   
“What the fuck, angel?!” He gasped, his heart beating remarkably fast. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”  
“I’m sorry, but I heard you whispering and...” Aziraphale looked away in embarrassment.   
“You thought I was planning on taking you back.” Crowley said flatly.  
“Well, yes, but I was mostly curious.”  
“Maybe I should bring you back.” The demon looked at the glass, lost in thought.   
“Now, wait just a moment-“  
“I won’t, of course. But I should, shouldn’t I?” Crowley gripped the glass harder. Aziraphale looked at him in shock and horror, and the demon rolled his eyes.   
“C’mon, Aziraphale, you have to admit that having an angel living in your home isn’t going to reflect well on your standing as a demon, not to mention the fact that the particular angel in question is technically stolen property of Hell.”   
“Crowley, your hand’s shaking-“  
“Look at me, worrying about something because it’s stolen property. A demon worried about stealing. Now, that’s a new low-“  
“Crowley!”  
“WHAT?!” The glass shattered in Crowley’s hand. The two men looked at it in shock as blood began to drip onto the floor. “Oh, fuck.”   
“I... I...” Aziraphale suddenly dropped down to his knees and began picking up the shards of glass off of the ground, gasping as a few of the pieces sliced into his hand. “I’m sorry. Please don’t send me back, I’m begging you. I-I promise I won’t make you mad again. I’ll clean, I’ll-“  
“Aziraphale, stop it.” He sighed as he focused on healing his own hand. There was a brief bout of silence as Aziraphale stared up at Crowley, watching as the demon healed, then flinched as he started to flex his hand. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to send you back.” The demon looked at the angels hand and winced. There were tiny gashes all over his fingers to the point where many of them were bleeding. For a moment, he debated on whether to heal the other mans hand as well, then decided against it, shaking his head. He was a DEMON, not a philanthropist. He didn’t have to do shit for other creatures.   
“What we are going to do, however, is go to that witch’s house. And here.” Crowley miracled bandages and padding in front of Aziraphale. The angel quickly wrapped his hands tightly with the bandages, without help from Crowley, the demon pointed out proudly in his head.   
With a snap of his fingers, his jacket appeared on his shoulders as the angel looked at him, confused.  
“What witch?”  
—  
“I don’t know where to start.” Anathema shook her head, looking down at an ancient book with yellowed pages. She flipped it open to one of the many marked sections and sighed. “It’s all written here. You’re going to... die, I think.”  
“Wait, what?!”   
“Well, maybe you won’t.” She got up and began to pace. “It says “die,” but not in a “death” sense.”  
“That’s straightforward.” Crowley snorted as Aziraphale fidgeted. He had been silent ever since Crowley’s little blow-up, and was currently refusing to look anyone in the eye or consume any food or drink he was offered. The angel just stared at the ground, only speaking when spoken to. To any outsider, it looked like someone was abusing him. Crowley guessed that being abused for thousands of years would change him, and this was the proof.   
“The strange thing is that it mentions both Heaven AND Hell.” Anathema’s words shook him out of his thoughts. “But it definitely talks about an immortal dying. One that had walked the Earth at the beginning.”  
“You think I was here at the beginning?” Crowley snorted.   
“Oh, no. I KNOW that part.” She rolled her eyes and pulled out another book. “Agnes says that someone matching YOUR description,” she gestured toward Crowley, “was the first serpent to walk the Earth.”  
Damn, that witch was good. Crowley had been the first being on the planet.   
“The ‘walking on two legs’ pointed us to humanoid-“  
“Us?”   
“Me and my ancestors.”  
“Hmph.” Crowley crossed his arms. All of this... picking at his past made him feel embarrassed, vulnerable, and, if he would allow himself to feel it, scared. Despite trying hard to keep fear out of his normal state of being, the demon would admit that it would pop up from time to time. He leaned forward and grinned at Anathema. “Let’s just skip to the good part. When do I die?”  
“It’s not necessarily ‘dying’-“  
“When do I not die, then?” The woman looked at the clock.   
“Two days, three hours, and... twenty four seconds.” She turned back to the demon.   
“Then I better make the most of it!” Crowley got up and pushed away from the table. “Angel, c’mon. Let’s have some fun!”  
“I’d rather not go to the club, dear. That ended in disaster.” Aziraphale pointed out quietly.   
“Then let’s just go home. I’ve got some nice stuff there.”   
Anathema stepped in front of them.   
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” She growled. Crowley pushed her out of the way and rolled his eyes.   
“I’m spending the rest of my time doing what I like most.” He shrugged. “I’m gonna get shit-faced.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves!   
> I am SO SORRY about this. I know I promised every week, but I probably should have said every other week. My finals happened, so I was really busy 2 weeks ago, then 1 week ago, I finished my last finals. This week is my first full week out of school! (Yay! Sort of... I miss college.)   
> Anywhoo, yeah, I’ll try my best to post every week or every other week. Sorry to keep you all waiting for so long!  
> Thank you to my wonderful beta ShesAKillerQueen98 for being awesome and editing my works! Go check out her stuff, it’s really good.  
> Comment or kudos if you like it!! I’ll respond to every comment, so if you want to tell me something, just comment!   
> Love you all!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get started, I want to say something.  
> George Floyd’s death was a horrific incident, but it was only one of many. How many more people need to die for America to realize that this country needs CHANGE and it needs it NOW. If the people at Stonewall had stayed quiet, there never would have been the LGBT community that is with us today. The Stonewall Riots were not peaceful AT. ALL. People threw their fists, rocks, Molotovs at the police who were treating them unfairly. Will people now have to resort to the same measures? Will the government be so resistant to change that there needs to be bombs in the streets?  
> To all of the POC who read this, I am so sorry for how America is treating you and has treated you since its creation. 
> 
> Now, onto the story.

“I think I’ll go to bed early, dear boy,” Aziraphale smiled shyly at Crowley, “I’d rather not have a repeat of last night.”  
“Oh, c’mon angel, no one else is gonna be here! It’s just a little bit of fun!” Crowley urged, going over to his liquor cabinet and pulling out a two bottles of wine. “I’d go for the cheaper one to get results, but seeing as you don’t want it I have a better-“  
“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale held up his hand. “I already said no. I need time to think about what we just heard. It was... quite alarming, to say the least.”  
The demon looked at the angel behind his dark glasses, then let out a cold chuckle.  
“Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t need you.“ Crowley took the cork out of the wine bottle with his teeth. Aziraphale’s face went blank as the demon drank straight from the bottle.  
“Goodnight, Crowley.” He said shortly before spinning around and walking rather strangely to the other room.  
“Fuck you.” Crowley mumbled. He didn’t understand why he was so upset over an angel not wanting to drink with him. It just meant there was more for him. That was a good thing, wasn’t it?  
Wasn’t it?  
—  
It was late, and Crowley had drunk about three of his cheapest wine bottles when he heard what sounded like crying. He shrugged, plopping himself down on his sofa which was now equipped with a blanket and a pillow, figuring that it was just the alcohol messing with him. The crying became louder, getting more frantic as the minutes passed. The demon shot up. It was Aziraphale.  
“Angel!” He called, almost tripping over himself as he dashed into the room. Crowley looked around for any signs of demons, but there was nothing. No one was there.  
Aziraphale was having a nightmare.  
Crowley let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, then softly began to shake the angel to wake him up. With a groan, Aziraphale opened his eyes.  
“Wh-wha’s goin’ on?” He asked, trying to blink the tiredness out of his eyes, sitting up. He was quite obviously shaken and upset.  
“You were having a nightmare.” Crowley explained softly, trying to sober himself up.  
“Did I wake you?” Aziraphale muttered, looking concerned and embarrassed, “Or interrupt your... fun?” He almost spat out the word, but the other man didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t show it.  
“No.” Crowley sat down on the bed gently, sighing. Satan bless it, he cared. “I was just... nothing. Don’t worry.” Aziraphale laughed quietly.  
“I always worry, my dear boy.” He said quietly. “Especially about you. What will happen to you when we’re caught?”  
Crowley opened his mouth to answer when Aziraphale shivered. He then realized that he didn’t need the truth. He needed comfort.  
”That’s the thing, angel.” Crowley shot him a crooked smile. “I don’t plan on doing the whole ‘getting caught’ business.”  
Aziraphale hesitated, then nodded and laid back down.  
“Get some rest.” Crowley stood up to walk away when he felt a hand gently wrap itself around his wrist. He turned around to see the angel holding onto his arm, blushing.  
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know.” Aziraphale said, glancing quickly up at the demon, then looking away. “In fact, would you care to join me?”  
“In... in the bed?” He stammered, and the angel nodded sleepily. “With you?”  
“Is... is that a problem?” The blond looked down, slightly hurt.  
“No!”  
“Good.” Aziraphale looked relieved.  
Crowley took off his shoes and jacket, placing them both in the closet before miracling on his black and red silken pajamas. When he got into bed, Aziraphale was giving him a strange look.  
“You know...” the angel said slowly and carefully, “you could probably get a promotion if you could tempt an angel.”  
“Yeah, probably.” Crowley muttered.  
“Well...” Aziraphale looked at him, “would you... perhaps... like to tempt me?”  
Crowley turned to face him. “Tempt you to do what?”  
For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Then, Crowley’s face went bright red as he realized what Aziraphale was saying.  
“Oh.”  
“Oh?”  
“You mean like THAT.”  
“Indeed, I do.”  
After another awkward pause, Crowley chewed his lip in thought.  
“To be honest, angel, it’s really not my style.”  
“Oh.” Aziraphale looked away, blushing. “Of course.”  
“It’s not you! You’re-“ As soon as he realized what he was saying, he stopped immediately and rolled onto his side away from Aziraphale. “Go to sleep, angel. You wouldn’t want me to sully your angelic form.”  
There was slight movement on the other side of the bed, and when Crowley rolled back over, Aziraphale was curled up tightly, fear wracking his body with tremors. He looked so small, so helpless, and the demon couldn’t help but to wrap himself around him. When the angel stiffened up, Crowley immediately pulled back, but Aziraphale grabbed his arm.  
“Please stay.” He said softly. “I know you’re a demon, but you have been kind so far. Please do me this favor. Stay with me?”  
Crowley curled himself back around Aziraphale and the tremors slowly ceased. The demon sighed and pulled his wings from the ethereal plane, draping them around the angel like a cocoon. With a hum, Aziraphale’s body went limp as he fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I know this is a hard time for people, so I wanted to spread a little bit of sunshine. It may not be much, just a small chapter, but I hope it made some of you smile. When I go through tough stuff, I sometimes read sweet fics, so I hope this helped with your sweet tooth! Sometimes, however, I like to read dark ones, and oh boy, do we have some dark chapters ahead of us!  
> Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, ShesAKillerQueen98!! She helped me get the courage to post this, even when I was terrified that everyone would hate it.  
> Please kudos if you like it! If you’d like, you can leave a comment, since I try to respond to every comment in a timely manner.  
> Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Alcoholism implied, death, blood

It was late when Crowley finally woke up. At first, nothing seemed wrong, save for the fact that he was sleeping on the wrong side of the bed. He rolled over towards the side of the bed he normally slept on, then found himself on top of something wet. He jolted up and found that he had rolled into a puddle of blood. For a moment, he was disgusted and confused. Who the Heaven was bleeding in his bed?! Then, he knew.   
Crowley flew out of bed and ran into the living room. There, he found a bleeding, yet semi-conscious Aziraphale. He lay on his back, his hands feebly pressed over a wound in his chest, his breathing short and ragged.   
Crowley ran to his side, knelt down, and pressed his hands over Aziraphale’s, pressing down as hard as he could.  
“Angel, what the fuck did you do?” He mumbled, and was shocked to receive a small laugh from the angel.   
“I guess... I just... didn’t... didn’t do well enough, my dear boy.” Aziraphale choked out the words.   
“What the Heaven do you mean, ‘not well enough’?! What didn’t you do well enough?!” Crowley practically shouted.   
“The... sword...” Aziraphale’s eyes became glassy as his body went limp. The rasping breaths ceased, and the angelic spark that always seemed to follow him faded into nothingness. He went completely still, all of the color draining from his face.   
“Aziraphale, you Satan blessed idiot!” Crowley found himself crying, still pressing down on the wound. “Aziraphale, please wake up... please, look, I’m even using manners! Doesn’t that please your angelic heart or something?”  
No response.   
“Aziraphale, don’t you DARE do this to me! Don’t you dare die on me!”   
It was too late. Aziraphale was gone.   
After a while, he got up off the floor and went straight for the liquor cabinet. The blood painted the neck of the bottle red as he took a swig straight from it. His hands were shaking as he sunk into his sofa, blinking the tears away.   
“You sadist.” He muttered, looking upwards. “You love to hate me, don’t you? You love to send me things that you can just take away. You sent me a world, then told me you would end it. You sent me an angel, a GOOD angel, not those smarmy bastards in Heaven. Then, you take him away.” Crowley got up and began to pace. “Are you testing ME?! I’m not a human, last time I checked, yet you’re still testing me?!” He took a long swig from his scotch, drinking it as if it was water. “How much more will I have to endure before you destroy me for good? In fact, I’m probably going to THANK the being that puts an end to my misery. And you know what?!” Crowley froze and looked up. “I hope you suffer just as much as I do, oh Great and Powerful One. I hope you burn.”  
—  
I never wanted you to suffer, child. You will face pain and anguish in the next coming days as per my plan, a plan that I often loathe, but you can survive, my child. You may feel alone right now, but you will not be alone for much longer. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.  
—  
Suddenly, Crowley felt a genuine sense of peace. He felt love and light and everything he hadn’t felt since... since...  
Then it was gone.   
“You’re a coward.” He growled, taking another swig from his bottle. “And so am I.”   
Crowley flung himself back onto the couch, his hands still soaked in blood as he laid down and continued to drink.   
“I’ve always been told I look good in red.” He laughed darkly as he looked down at his hands. Slowly, he drank himself into a deep slumber, only waking up when the sun rays hit his face.   
—  
Waking up hungover is never fun. Waking up hungover and with the blood of your only friend on your hands (literally and figuratively) was monumentally worse. The first thing Crowley did when he got up was make himself a hangover cure. His version of a hangover curing drink was another bottle of booze. He grabbed the whiskey and drank until his headache was dulled by the alcohol.   
After a breakfast of nothing but alcohol and the daily plant intimidation, the demon felt an urge to do something the human way. He decided to take a shower.   
He thought that he would rather have been wearing a red shirt than the red blood of his only friend on his hands, and a shower might soothe the aches and pains from sleeping on the couch.   
Right when he was about to step into the shower, a voice sounded out behind him.   
“Good morning, Crowley.” It croaked, and Crowley spun around, forcing a smile onto his face.   
“Hastur!” He slurred. “‘Is good to see you! ‘Ow’s Hell? Bet ‘is awful.”  
“You won’t have to wonder for much longer.” Hastur’s smile was rather frightening due to his rotten and yellowed teeth, but for some reason, Crowley thought it was hilarious.   
“Oh?” He giggled. “And why’s tha’? Am I... m’ I goin’ back?”  
“Why else would I be here?” Hastur looked around. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck in this... disgustingly clean world for long.”  
“Hey.” Crowley attempted to keep a serious face. “Tha’s mah place we’re talkin’ about. ‘Is... ‘is so disgustingly clean...” his mind couldn’t come up with anything witty to say, “you don’t even know how clean it is.”  
“Yeah.” Hastur grumbled, then sighed in annoyance. “Beelzebub sent me up here to collect you.”  
“Well, I’m ready!” Crowley said cheerfully, his brain unable to process the idea of how horrible being back in Hell would be.   
“Not yet, you’re not.” Hastur said, appalled.   
“Wha’?”  
“Put some blessed clothes on.”  
—  
“Anathema, what are we doing here?” Newt said, unable to keep up with her as she sped towards the apartment building.   
“I figured out the prophecy. We need to do something in order to prevent the world from ending.” She said quickly.   
“Wait, when’s the world ending?” Newt looked at her in confusion and shock.   
“Long story, won’t happen for a few months, and not the focus right now.” She said as they reached the lobby and pressed the elevator button. She tapped her foot impatiently and crossed her arms.   
“Fine,” Newt tried to wrap his head around the idea that the world was going to end, “then what’s the focus?”   
“Saving the angel and the demon.” She said as the elevator dinged and opened.   
“Right.” Newt was now trying to wrap his head around the fact that saving the world wasn’t the priority. “Why?”  
“Because they are going to help us save it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!   
> Dang, this quarantine is lasting a lot longer than I expected. Well, I originally expected it to be 3 weeks, so...   
> Anyway, I’m glad I’m finally writing to cope again instead of doing nothing. You guys deserve to know the ending to this story, and you guys ARE GOING TO GET IT, DAMN IT! Sorry, I get a little passionate. But this plot is going to ALSO be longer than I expected. I recently added a plot development that makes this a lot more complicated and more intense. You’ll see what I mean in a few chapters.  
> ALSO, I wanted to mention that I am now selling little octopus stress balls, and two of my designs are Aziraphale and Crowley! Hop over to my instagram to see pictures (zee_sea_breeze)!   
> Thank you to ShesAKillerQueen98 for being a wonderful friend and beta.   
> Thank you to EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU for reading this! Leave a kudos if you like it, and leave a comment if you’re interested in talking to me or have questions about the plot.   
> Love you all!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: TORTURE

Hell is never a nice place. Not even when you’re a demon. ESPECIALLY if you’re Crowley, one of the most hated demons in Hell.  
With a groan of pain, Crowley opened one eye and instantly felt a blow to his abdomen. Instantly, he felt something crack and he screamed in pain and surprise.  
“Wha-“  
“Rise and shine!” A gruff voice sounded above him. He looked up to find both Hastur and Ligur standing over him.  
“Good morning, fellas!” Crowley choked out, sitting up carefully as to not jostle his now broken rib. The room was dark, and smelled of mold and rotting flesh. There was blood caked on the ground, some of it still drying.  
“It’s not morning.” Said Hastur, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  
“And for you, it certainly won’t be good.” Ligur added as he kicked Crowley in the ribs again. Crowley groaned in pain as the broken rib was joined by another.  
“This is a rather nice massage.” The red haired man quipped, grinning. “When are we going to get to the painful part?”  
The two other demons were obviously starting to get annoyed. They pulled the man to his feet, and Crowley gasped in pain as they chained his wrists above him, aggravating the two broken ribs. Suddenly, a sharp knife appeared in Hastur’s hand, and Crowley almost sighed in relief. However, as soon as the shirt was cut off of him, the knife seemed to dull. The half dressed demon closed his eyes and bit his lip.  
They were right.  
This wouldn’t be a good day for him at all.  
—  
“So, what do we do, now?” Newt asked after waiting outside of Crowley’s flat for 10 minutes without a response.  
“We break in, of course.” Anathema said, then proceeded to take out a bobby-pin from her hair and inserted it into the lock.  
“What?!” Newt said, looking down the hallway both ways before turning his wide and fearful eyes on his girlfriend.  
“Agnes implied that we might have to, so I brought one just in case.”  
“Oh.” For a moment, the man seemed a bit disappointed. “I thought you were getting a little dressed up for our date.”  
The door swung open and Anathema sighed in relief.  
“We can talk about the date, later.” She said quickly, taking out chalk from her bag. “Right now, I have a sigil to draw.”  
—  
The broken ribs felt like a gentle breeze compared to the pain Crowley was in now. His entire body shook as he dangled from his wrists, unable to hold himself up with his legs any longer.  
“Where’s the angel, Crowley?” Hastur practically shouted in anger.  
“Go fuck yourself.” Crowley said through clenched teeth. He screamed as Hastur slowly pushed the dulled knife into his stomach.  
“How much longer will this take?” Hastur asked with a sigh of annoyance. “I was supposed to be on a break 40 minutes ago!”  
“Here.” Ligur took the knife from Hastur, Crowley grunting as it moved inside of him. “I’ll take over.” Ligur looked at Crowley with glee. A twist of the knife elicited another scream of agony. “And take your time. I want to have a little bit of fun with our friend, here.”  
A jar of liquid appeared in front of them, and Crowley’s breath hitched.  
Acid.  
Suddenly, a laugh bubbled out of Crowley, surprising both him and Ligur, but the other demon just slowly dipped the dull knife into the vat.  
“Don’t tell me anything. I just want to see what this does.”  
“Good thing I wasn’t planning on it.” Crowley grinned. The smile was wiped off of his face as soon as the blade was lifted out of the container, dripping. Crowley gritted his teeth, trying his best not to whimper as the knife was lifted to one of his already open wounds.  
He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a tear.  
Crowley balled up his fists and readied himself for more pain.  
—  
Anathema smiled in satisfaction as she finished her chalk sigil on the ground.  
“There we go!” She got up and brushed herself off. Newt hummed and glanced at the sigil, thumbing the book in his hand. Anathema sighed and flipped the book to one of the many marked pages. “The one with the blue, remember?”  
“I-I thought you meant the blue would be on the page.”  
She crossed her arms.  
“I don’t defile books.”  
Newt flipped to the first page, where young Anathema had drawn a picture.  
“Anymore.”  
Newt gave her a look.  
“Not my ancestors book, at least- why are we even talking about this right now?” She said, exasperated, then stepped into the middle of the giant sigil. “Just read out spell number 871.”  
“Right, right.” Newt cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Are you sure about this?”  
“Of course I’m sure!” Anathema crossed her arms. “Agnes wrote it, and she’s never wrong.”  
“But she didn’t know you personally.” Newt said, worried. “I do. I love you and I’m scared for you.”  
For a moment, the witch froze, looking shocked. They never spoke like that to each other. Newt had to be truly afraid for him to say something so sappy. A smile dawned Anathema’s face as she walked over to her partner and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Newt blushed and ducked his head down  
“I promise I’ll be back. Agnes said I’d be back, so I’ll be back with that demon in tow.”  
Newt closed his eyes and recited the prophecy.  
“‘Anathema, my descendent, ye shall leave thy skin behind to cross through the abode of the damned. When ye step back, alone ye shall not be. Wade through the darkness, child, and find the begetter of sin with scales of night and blood, and ye both shall step back into the light.”  
With a deep breath, Anathema stepped back into the sigil and started to chant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
> I have some good news! Next chapter is almost done, too! AND I’m trying to start the chapter after THAT!  
> A lot of these next chapters are going to be... rather gruesome. For me, I think I’m rather good at gruesome, so hopefully you’ll like them too! If you don’t, I’m sorry!! You can skip the next few chapters.  
> Thank you as always to my WONDERFUL beta, ShesAKillerQueen98!! She’s a great friend and an awesome writer, so check her stuff out!  
> If you like this, please leave a kudos, and if you want to talk to me or say something about this, just comment and I’ll get back to you ASAP.  
> Love you all!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: TORTURE, GORE, BLOOD

Crowley winced as he heard his cell door open and shut. His wings were in tatters, his back was a mess of black blood and dirt, and his palms were bleeding from him digging his nails into them.  
“Why won’t you cry?” The demon who stepped inside the cell asked, and Crowley looked up, giving Beelzebub his signature grin.  
“I thought the demons would like a challenge.” He said, his voice raw from screaming.  
“Your zcreamz are beautiful, though.” They sighed. “There is one person who would like to send hiz regardz.” They smiled a sickening smile. “He is preoccupied for a mo’, you know how angelz are-“  
“Angels?” Crowley’s blood went cold.  
“-so he gave us a bottle of his finezt and zweetezt holy water.” Beelzebub held a tartan thermos in their hands and slowly began to unscrew the top. Crowley opened his mouth slightly, smelling the air. The thermos smelled of Aziraphale.  
“He said he wanted to know what you thought of it.”  
“No, you wouldn’t DARE-“  
“Would you like a tazte?” They said, grinning.  
“Don’t do this, Lord Beelzebub, please don’t do this-“  
“Hastur?” The duke of Hell appeared next to them and smiled. “Would you like to do the dizhonorz?”  
“Oh, I’ve been looking forward to it.”  
“Hastur, you cant be serious. Even for demons, this is barbaric!” Crowley begged as Hastur un-cuffed his hands. Crowley fell to the floor and immediately tried to dive out of Hastur’s reach, but the demon stomped down on his wing and dragged him to his knees. The duke of Hell yanked his head back by his hair, but Crowley kept his mouth closed. With a growl of frustration, Hastur dug his heel into Crowley’s wing, and Crowley screamed. Hastur grabbed his jaw and kept it open as Beelzebub approached with the open thermos.  
—  
Anathema suddenly stopped in the middle of her chanting and fell to the ground, gasping.  
“Anathema!” Newt was immediately at her side, looking her up and down to search for injuries.  
“This... this spell...” she cleared her throat, “it binds my soul to Crowley. Whatever they’re doing to him, it’s...” she covered her mouth and coughed, “not good.”  
Another cough wracked her body, and when she pulled her hand away, there was blood.  
“Ana...” Newt said breathlessly, unable to look away from the blood, “what has Agnes brought us in to?”  
—  
By the time Beelzebub left, Crowley was shaking in pain. As soon as Hastur let go, he curled in on himself and closed his eyes. His mouth and esophagus were covered in burns and blisters, making swallowing exceedingly painful. Not that he wanted to swallow, anyway. Any spit left in his mouth was mixed with blood, and tasted vile.  
He knew that Beelzebub wasn’t done with him, or they would have let him discorporate. No, they were getting him ready. For what, he didn’t know.  
As tears rolled down his face, he prayed to God- yes, God- for some relief.  
‘This is too much to bear,’ he told Her, ‘how much more of this will I have to take?’  
—  
I can’t stop this, love, but I’ll do what I can. Breathe, my son, you’ll be out and reunited with him, soon.  
Don’t lose faith, love. Not in him. Not in Me.  
—  
Suddenly, he thought he felt something cool soothing his sore throat. The burns and blisters seemed to hurt less, and Crowley pushed himself up in shock. When he spit on the ground, the spit was only slightly darkened.  
“What-“  
The cell door opened slowly, and Crowley greeted Beelzebub with a smile.  
—  
The drink of water seemed like a Godsend to Anathema, and she drank it greedily.  
“Thank you.” She gasped. Newt just nodded and set the glass down outside of the chalk circle.  
“Are you sure you should be doing this?”  
“Of course I’m sure!” Anathema stood back up, brushed herself off and cursed. “I smudged the circle. It temporarily broke the connection. Damnit!”  
“Why-why is that so bad?” Newt asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Can’t you just fix it?”  
Anathema looked at him and sighed.  
“Newt, what have I told you about smudging sigils and runes?”  
He closed his eyes, thinking for a minute before his shoulders slumped forward.  
“Oh. You have to redo them.”  
“Completely.” Anathema nodded. “And that sigil is PARTICULARLY complicated to draw out.”  
“W-well, I could try it.” Newt suggested, a slight look of excitement in his eyes. “I could redraw the sigil.”  
Anathema gave him a blank look.  
“Uh...”  
“You trust me, right?” Newton gently led Anathema over to Crowley’s couch and sat her down.  
“Of course, I trust you. It’s just-“  
“I’m a quick study. I saw what you made, and I can replicate it. I promise I’ll do it exactly how you would have.”  
Hesitantly, she nodded. Newt smiled as she handed him the chalk.  
“Just don’t put me anywhere near a computer, and I’m fairly certain nothing will blow up!”  
—  
“You’re... you’re fine.” Beelzebub looked at Crowley in shock.  
“Right as rain!” He croaked, wiping the blood off of his chin, giving them a wink. Hastur came in after them, horrified.  
“Let’z zee if you’re “right azzz rain” after thizzz.” Beelzebub pulled out the thermos. “Your little boyfriend says hello.”  
Crowley’s face twisted into a scowl. “He’s not my boyfriend.”  
“Open wide!” Hastur grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.  
“No.” Beelzebub squinted their eyes, a slight smirk on their lips. “I have a better idea. I need an angel, and I know just the one for the job.”  
The two demons walked out of the room, and Crowley was left alone with his own thoughts, which were more than enough to keep him in place.  
‘It can’t be Aziraphale,’ he thought to himself, ‘he would never hurt a fly. All of the torture he’s been through, he’d never want to inflict it on anyone else. Right?’  
The cell door opened again, this time, a light haired, blue-eyed angel stood in the doorframe with a sickening smile.  
“You... you were discorporated! I saw it.” He said quietly.  
Aziraphale looked at him coldly, not saying a word.  
“Your firzt miztake waz trying to zide with the enemy.” Beelzebub droned. “You really think an angel could ever care about a demon? You’re deluzional. You dizgust me, and I know the angel feelz the zame way.”  
Crowley tried to hold back his tears as Aziraphale approached him.  
—  
The sigil that Newt had drawn was perfect, and had earned him praise as well as a kiss.  
As soon as Anathema began reciting the words, she started to shake. She began coughing again, then her eyes started to get wider and wider.  
“Anathema?”  
“My... my eyes... they’re burning.”  
—  
After what seemed like an eternity, the angel and the two demons left, leaving Crowley on the ground, trembling in pain, eyes wide. His throat and mouth burned like anything, but this time, they had added something.  
Finally, the demon dragged himself to his knees. He tried rubbing his eyes, but the more he rubbed, the more painful it became.  
Crowley, weakened by hours of agony, began sobbing uncontrollably, his tears stinging his face. When the door opened, he didn’t bother to turn around. He knew he wouldn’t see anyone there.  
He knew that he was blind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is turning out to be a long one, huh? I like making Anathema kind of brilliant. I feel like not enough people are out there to make her shine, and I strongly believe she’d kick ass. She managed to avert nuclear Armageddon by figuring out that Newt was terrible with computers. It takes some brains and composure to put two and two together when the world is about to end.  
> Anyway, enough about amazing Anathema.  
> This story is about halfway done, so we’ve still got a ways to go.  
> Thank you to my amazing beta ShesAKillerQueen98. Go check out her stuff! It’s really cool.  
> Thank you to all of you for reading this!! Leave some kudos if you like it, and leave a comment if you... well... have a comment or just want to talk with me! I’ll respond as soon as I can.  
> Love you all!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: TORTURE, ISOLATION AND ALL THE STUFF THAT COMES WITH IT

Crowley didn’t move as the door shut.   
“Cr-crowley, right?” A soft voice croaked, and Crowley spun around. He recognized that voice. He opened his mouth and smelled the air.   
“You’re not... demon.” He choked out, his throat and mouth still burning from the treatment.   
“No.” The voice replied. The demon felt the person step closer to him and he hissed, trying to sound as fierce as he could.   
As the person neared him, he hissed louder, gnashing his fangs, trying not to show how terrified he truly was. The person sighed and knelt down next to him.   
“Can you move?” The person asked gently before making the mistake of putting their hand on Crowley’s shoulder. Before they could react, Crowley’s fangs had already sunk into their skin. They gasped in pain, their hand withdrawn faster than it had landed on him. He hissed and drew back as if to strike again.   
“Damnit! Stop biting the hand that feeds you, you idiot!” The voice gasped. “I’m trying to get you out of here.”  
Suddenly, the memory came back into his mind and he opened his mouth to take another whiff.   
“Witch.” He croaked, relief washing over him.   
“Yes!” She whispered. “It’s me! We are getting the fuck out of here.”  
“How?” Bless it all, using his voice HURT.   
“By using the same spell I used to get in here.” For a moment, there was silence as if she was debating whether or not to say something. After a moment, she decided to say it. “At least, I’m pretty sure it’ll work. Agnes said it would, but I had to make up the spell, you see. So, we’ll see how this goes.”   
Crowley heard her get up then kneel back down at the other side of the room. A soft scraping sound followed, and after about a minute, the witch let out a breath.   
“Okay, you just need to carefully move inside of this sigil.”   
The demon stood up and stumbled his way in the direction of the witch. Once he deemed himself close enough, he nodded and stood still.   
“Here goes nothing.” She said before mumbling a few strange words.  
Suddenly, Crowley felt himself being pulled upwards. Somehow, the witch had made the journey painless and almost instantaneous. When the two beings appeared on the surface, the demon stumbled backwards and into a coffee table. He tumbled to the ground with a yelp, then got up on all fours and spat blood out of his mouth. The burns and blisters were choking him, he couldn’t breathe and, oh Satan, it hurt so MUCH.   
“Oh my god- Newt, bring him some of the tea I brewed this morning!” The witch called out to her boyfriend. Crowley could hear the boy run over to the kitchen. For a moment, Crowley blacked out, and when he came to, he felt himself being picked up.   
“- him to the bedroom!” The witch said quickly. He wanted to fight for his own autonomy, but his exhaustion made it nearly impossible to move without help, so he let the two humans carry him into the next room.  
When they placed him on his bed, he sighed in relief. With a snap of his fingers, he was completely blood and dirt free, and another snap had him in his comfiest pajamas. Before he was able to lay down, someone wrapped his hand around a glass. Instantly, he hissed and dropped it, curling up on his bed away from the spilled liquid on the floor. He didn’t want to go through it again. He wouldn’t drink holy water on his own accord.   
“The tea will soothe your throat, Crowley.” Another glass was pressed into his hand. He opened his mouth to smell the liquid. It didn’t smell of Aziraphale or holy water, so he gave in, taking small sips. The witch was right. Instantly, his throat began to hurt less. He sighed, using a slight miracle to make sure the glass made it to his nightstand before laying down on his side. His back and stomach had been badly injured, but with proper sleep, he would heal overnight. That was what injuries from Hell did. The injuries would heal quickly so that the demons had a clear slate to work with after one night of sleep.   
—  
Crowley was in a small room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all perfectly white, no blemishes, not even a door. In the corner sat a man who was curled up into a tight ball, shivering. He wore a thin shirt and pants, both white as well. Even his hair seemed to be white. The brightness was almost blinding.   
There was an overbearing silence, one that was so strong that it made his ears pop, almost as if it had sucked all of the sounds that could be out of the room. Everything about the situation seemed... wrong.   
Suddenly, a door appeared, and in strode none other than the archangel Gabriel. Sound flooded back in and the man in the corner lifted his head.   
“Aziraphale...?” Crowley breathed. The angel looked absolutely nothing like the one that had tormented him in Hell. He looked different. Fragile. Almost broken.   
“Good morning, Aziraphale!” Gabriel said loudly, the sharp sound cutting the silence like a knife through butter. It must have been a long time since Aziraphale had heard anything, because the first thing he did was cover his ears before attempting to sit up.   
“G-Gabriel!” The angel tried to sound happy, but underneath the cheerfulness his voice sounded tired, strained, almost scared. “It’s so good to see you!”  
The archangel laughed strangely. “Oh, I know. It’s been, what,” Gabriel looked at his watch, “a decade since you last spoke to anyone!”   
“O-oh, really?” Aziraphale smiled, obviously terrified. “Has it now?”   
“Oh,” Gabriel faked shock and pity, “I’m so sorry I disturbed your peace, Aziraphale. I can leave you for-“  
“No!” The angels voice was desperate, so he cleared his throat to steady himself. “No, that’s very kind of you, but I’d rather explore a bit, if that would be okay.” Gabriel smiled.   
“I’m sorry, buuuut,” he clapped his hands together, “you can’t leave.”  
“What?!” Aziraphale looked at him in anger. “You said if I blessed the water-“  
“We said that if you blessed the water, it would help Heaven immensely. And it has.” The archangel shrugged. “But everyone else still thinks you’re dead, so I can’t let you out.”   
Aziraphale slowly rose to his feet, practically glowing with divine fury.   
“I am the Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate. You cannot throw me away like a piece of filth.” His wings flared out as his eyes began to glow. “I am an angel, and you will give me the respect I deserve.”  
“An angel who disobeyed.” Gabriel argued. “You didn’t fall, but you are a blemish in our ranks.“ Aziraphale’s holy light began to sputter. “An angel cursed by Satan can’t possibly be let to roam free! What if you spread your... impurity?”  
“How-how did you know about that?” The divine glow faded into nothing as Aziraphale looked at the archangel in horror.   
“I could practically smell it on you. What are you, some kind of bug?” Gabriel closed the door. “A platypus?”   
“I- I don’t want to talk about-“  
Suddenly, Gabriel conjured a whip and cracked it in the air. The sound caused the angel to shift in fear. The snow leopard growled and slashed at Gabriel, but he quickly sidestepped and kicked him in the jaw. Aziraphale shifted back, panting on all fours, his head hanging low.   
“You’re not an angel.” Gabriel said slowly, as if he was trying to explain something to a child. “Not anymore, at least. And you’d do best to remember that.” Gabriel stepped on Aziraphale’s back, forcing the angel onto his stomach.   
“What-“  
“Wings.” The archangel demanded. “Now.”   
Out from Aziraphale’s back sprung his soft, white wings.  
—  
Crowley woke up with a start, his heart pounding and his mind filled with more questions than he had before.  
When he opened his mouth to call for the witch, he smelled the air and froze.   
There was an angel in his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m so sorry I didn’t post last week, I thought I did but I must have forgotten. I’m going to be starting a class at a community college to keep me occupied until my other college starts up. Yay!! I’m really excited. It’s abnormal psych, it’s gonna be so good AH!!   
> Okay, enough of that.   
> Our boys seem to be in a bit of a rough spot. I promise you, it’s gonna be tense, but it’ll get better. And worse. BUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT.  
> Kudos if you like it! They give me life. Comment if you want to say something to me!   
> Love you all!!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture implied, gore

The faint sound of wings stirred Anathema out of her thoughts. She put down her ancestors prophecy book and sighed.   
“Newt,” she called, “did you leave the window open-“  
Someone cleared their throat behind her and she nearly flew off the sofa. Quickly, she grabbed the thing closest to her in order to use it as a weapon. The thing closest to her happened to be a potted plant. She spun around and held the pot in one hand, ready to chuck it at the intruder.   
He wore an ironed grey suit with a white scarf and a bright white shirt. His shoes were light brown and looked as though they had just been shined. He was surrounded by a strange aura, one that almost seemed to glow.   
“Who are you, and how the Hell did you get it?” She said, then backtracked slightly. “Actually, a better question would be what the Hell are you? Because you’re not human.”   
The man grunted and smiled, his hands clasped together in front of him.   
“You must be Anathema Device!” He said in a faked cheerful voice.   
“You start talking or I swear to God, this plant is going directly into your face.” She said angrily.   
“I don’t think God would appreciate that.” He frowned slightly and knit his eyebrows together. “And it’s better off you don’t know who I am right now. Just know I have something of yours that you might want back.”  
“What could you possibly have of mine?” She grit her teeth, readying the plant.   
“Aziraphale.”   
Anathema dropped the pot in shock. It fell to the ground with a crash, prompting Newt to stumble into a rather strange face-off.   
“You’re another angel, aren’t you?” She asked darkly. The man looked at her and put his hand over his chest, appalled.   
“I’m not just another angel, Anathema!” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned forward. “I’m an archangel.”  
“Honestly, I don’t care what you are.” Anathema adjudged her glasses. “Right now, I’d just like Aziraphale back.”   
A man appeared between the intruder and Anathema. She gasped as he fell, frozen in shock at the state Aziraphale was in. Newt lunged forward and caught him before his knees hit the ground, then gently set him on the sofa, laying him down on his stomach. The angel was barely conscious as he covered his ears and whimpered, however, his pale complexion and obviously starved frame wasn’t the part of him that had scared Anathema.   
There were... bones sticking out from his back. They looked like they had belonged to a limb or two before, however, whatever was there had been violently ripped off. Something golden coated his entire back, and even Newt could guess what it was since it seemed to have come out of the massive wounds. Despite him being an angel, neither human figured that that much blood-loss was healthy, even for an immortal being. The bones were reminiscent of a birds skeletal structure in its back and in the base of...  
“His wings...” Anathema looked like she was going to puke. “You... you monster! You fucking tore off his wings?!” Suddenly, the archangel was in front of her, hand gripping her neck.   
“How dare you speak to me like that, mortal?” He said coldly as she choked for air. Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in the back of his skull and he let go, falling forward. Newt stood over him, a heavy looking book in hand. The archangel put his hand to the back of his head and felt something wet. He stood back up and stumbled back as Newton pulled Anathema away from him, putting himself between her and the furious archangel.   
“Don’t you dare touch her again.” Newt said his voice shaking in fury. The intruder pointed his finger at the two humans.   
“You two...” he took a deep breath, “you’re lucky I’m a being of love. If I wasn’t-“  
“A ‘being of love’ would never rip off somebody’s wings, you arrogant asshole!” Anathema growled as she rubbed her neck.   
He smiled at the pair, wiping the hand he used to grip Anathema’s neck off as if he had touched something vile. “You’ll never get into Heaven, now. I’m sure of it.”   
In a flash, the archangel was gone, leaving the two humans with a bleeding, half-conscious angel.   
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Newt muttered. Anathema looked at Newt in shock, and when he saw the look of surprise in her eyes, he sighed. “All humans make mistakes, so why should any of us be able to get into a perfect paradise?”  
“Obviously, it’s far from perfect, but you raise a valid point.” Anathema broke away from him to find some bandages and some water, hoping that Aziraphale, even in his current state, would be able to bless it. Agnes had told her that holy water could help cure an angel, so she was almost certain it would at least help with the torn flesh around the bones.   
After a few minutes of searching through Crowley’s bathroom, she finally gave up and headed back to the main area. To her relief, Newt had found the first aid and had begun to wipe the blood off of his back. Slowly, Aziraphale looked up, hands still covering his ears.   
“You’re... Anathema, right?” The angel said very quietly, squinting as though the gentle morning light was as bright as the sun.   
“Yes.” She smiled at him warmly, trying to make him feel safe. “You’re Aziraphale, the angel.”  
“Well, not very angelic anymore, my dear girl.” He chuckled darkly. “Just a wingless being.”  
She sighed and knelt down in front of Aziraphale. There was nothing she could do to give him back what he had lost, but she could at least try to dull the pain.   
“Would you please bless this water?” She asked with as much kindness as she could muster while still being furious. Aziraphale’s eyes widened slightly in fear, but he softly said a few words and nodded.   
“There you go.” He said, before closing his eyes.   
“Aziraphale?” Anathema tapped his cheek, her heart starting to beat faster. “Aziraphale?!”   
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to die!   
“He’s still breathing.” Newt said, then placed two fingers on the angels wrist and watched the clock for a minute. “His pulse is slightly weakened, but I’m fairly certain he’ll at least wake up. If he needs immediate attention, I can at least keep him alive.” He began gently applying the bandages, using the holy water to clean the wounds. “Looks like the wound has been cauterized, but whatever they used, it seems to have done quite a number on the flesh around it. It almost... dissolved. Maybe they used some sort of acid? No, that wouldn’t make sense...” For a moment, he was lost in thought.   
“How do you know all of this?” Anathema looked at Newt suspiciously.   
“I was an EMT for some time.” He explained. “I got kicked out. I... blew up a hospital computer.”  
Anathema smiled slightly. “Of course you did.”  
There was a moment of silence.  
“Um, Anathema?” Newt’s voice was strangely high. She hummed in response. “Did I just hit a bloody archangel in the back of the head with your ancient prophecy book?”   
“Yup!” She smiled and gave him a quick kiss.   
“Right.” Newt thought for a moment. “Why the HELL did I think that was a good idea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry, yesterday was a mess, so I forgot to post. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter and the Newt and Anathema that I’m writing. I feel like right now, while the two heal, it’ll be about half and half Newt/Anathema and the boys.   
> Thank you to my glorious beta ShesAKillerQueen98 for being there for me and for preventing me from being a total idiot.  
> Thank you all for reading this!! Please leave a kudos if you liked it! If you want to talk to me or message me, just comment and I’ll get to it ASAP!  
> Love you all!!


	19. Sorry!!

Hey guys, I’m really sorry but after months of thought, I decided to stop writing this story. The concept, however, will be kept alive. I will be writing another fic with a very similar premise and I’ll have the first chapter up really soon!!

Love you all and I hope to see you in the next one!


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